The Light in the Distance
by Immolating Corrosion
Summary: The humans have advanced far since their time as little monkeys, hopping along on trees. In 2075, the first permanent colony was established on Mars. In 2213, the outer colonies rebelled, and the Earth Alliance was formed. In 2238, the first signs of aliens were discovered. Rated T for violence, mild coarse language and implied sexual themes.
1. Prologue

"_Perhaps it is our own fault, that we disappeared. Perhaps it was a mistake to slaughter the conquerors, but what is done is done. We cannot save them now. But we can remake their legacy, to recreate their vision, of the glorious, golden empire. So fear us, you dastardly creatures! You may have won now, but we are patient. We can bid our time, until then you lower your guard, forget the ways of war. We will be hiding just within the shadows, poised, but not striking. We will be there when you least expect us, and take back what's ours!_"

-Anonymous repeating frequency intercepted near Pluto

* * *

**A/N** The prologue is just to introduce the characters. You can completely skip over it, but might be confused a bit later on as to who is whom.

**PROLOGUE – All Hell to Pay**

He hated this world; why were there so many bottom feeders here?

Around were the grimy machinery that had been put into service a century ago and the ragged people who survive on worms and each other. The buildings were too tall, oppressing over the surface like giants. Even above the buildings was the dust storm, the ever-flowing dust storm, that covered the entire surface of the planet 24/7. Of course, this was Saturn, after all, but it still gave quite the impression of being suffocated.

Green City, they called it. How ironic. They might as well had called it Dust City. Oh wait, then every city on this gas planet would be called Dust City. He snorted to himself, drawing the looks a few nearby. He wasn't concerned at all by the series of nasty glares received. They would be foolish to attack him, as he had on a mercenary armor, and frankly, more weapons visible than an arms dealer would dare to display on his shelves.

A swirl of dust blew into his face. Even through the mask, he coughed as the granules entered his mouth. Such was the hard life on Saturn. With the entire atmosphere consisting of blowing dust particles, every city contained on its perimeters repulsion machines that kept the choking air from completely burying the city. Unfortunately, machines had limits, which meant sometimes a little stream of dust got in every now and then, and then it was up to the local security to use their big vacuums to decontaminate entire blocks.

Speaking of local security.

Two of them, the police, as they called them in the inner system, stalked by. Their bodies were completely sealed in armor and glowing lights, like a cheap joke. Huge rifles were slung over their shoulders and pistols on their hips. However, despite all they looked, he knew their armor offered as much resistance as paper; after all, he'd done some work himself to test that.

They gave him a steady glare, which he did not return. Like territorial animals, they took eye contact as a sort of challenge to be arrest. They patrolled past, and he snuck a peek at them before hurrying onward. Nothing would please him more than getting off this dust bowl as quickly as possible.

Finally. Within sight, just a bit farther away, sat a glamorous palace. Beautiful domes and arches made it seem almost illusionary and alienated it from the rest of the rusty metal and worn machinery. Within lived his target: a certain Senator Martin Holt. His mission: capture Senator Holt, alive, and not missing any limbs. Piece of cake.

Only problem: the twenty-foot tall wall that separated the beauty from the wasteland. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem any longer soon.

"Jenny, hit it."

An explosion rocked the street. People dove to the ground, out of fear or instinct, he didn't know. But he brushed them aside as he strode forward, his rifle already in hand. The first guards, wearing white, like the mansion, stumbled out of the smoke, still trying to arm themselves. They were shot down like practice targets, by a stream of heated red bolts.

"Good work," he commented.

"Thank you," came the reply, walking next to him. Here, his favorite explosives expert in the whole wide universe, Jennifer Davis, and personally, a hottie. He'd met her back when he served in army, when she was a field explosives expert. Rockets, grenades, EMPs, tactical nukes, you name it, she got it, and knew exactly how to build it from scratch. He was lucky she was on his side, or else he would have never made it out of that angry mob without her flash bomb. Good ole' times.

"What took you so long, Foster?" Someone charged out of the gloom and bashed a guard's head in. It was almost comical to see, a large man almost twice as big as the pathetic soldiers the senator hired, throwing people around as though they were ragdolls. His blade cut through the cheap armor with precision and efficacy, killing one after another. "Thought me and the ladies here would have to start the party without you."

Sean Greene, big guy, good with swords, maces, his bare hands, and one of his best buddies. He was reliable as they go, mercenaries and privateers, but fiercely loyal, to his family, whom was on Mars, to his teammates, to their mission. He was the rock, literally, bouldering through enemies like a bowling ball.

"I can hear you, you know?" buzzed the intercom. A red targeting line that had itself on his shoulder disappeared as the sniper toppled over from where he nest on top of the mansion. "If you want me to keep these snipers off of you, you better watch your mouth."

Carolyn Jenkins, tactical sniper, expert shot with snipers, semi-automatics, rocket launchers, orbital strikes, and anything she could get her hands on. When he first met her, she had quite the temper. He was glad Jennifer's more mild personality was rubbing off on her.

"Calm down, woman! I–"

"I will not calm down! Why are you always–"

"Are you still sore about that comment I made on your cake?"

"I swear, if you–"

"Less talking, more fighting," he heard himself say, though he was grinning from ear to ear. He tossed his rifle to Jennifer, who caught it with a natural grace. From his holsters he drew out a pair of sleek pistols. They were projectile, but that didn't matter, as their projectiles could punch through solid metal. A guard, armed with an energy shield and an electric pike, charged at him, and died, as the bullet bypassed the shield completely. "Idiots," he muttered.

The three of them, with Jenkins upstairs to support them with sniper fire, barged through the mansion door. Inside were more guards, all of whom scattered as Sean almost ran them over. Foster cursed as another guard pointed his rifle at the big man and quickly ended him with a loud bam.

"Sean! Activate your shield!"

"Right."

The panels of orange surrounded Sean suddenly, and a barrage of glowing bolts shot into the shield and were subsequently absorbed. He shook his head to himself. Sometimes the man had too much fun and forget that death was always watching.

"Jenkins! How many more are we expecting?"

"Uh, thermo scan shows about a couple dozen or so still in the house, and a lot more coming from outside."

"And the target?"

"There are one times person in the uppermost story. I would guess that's him."

"Guide us!" he screamed, as he shot down another soldier, whose energy bolts melted harmlessly into his body armor. The resistance ahead was waning, but that didn't mean the job was any easier. More guards rushed in from the back, ducking behind exquisite furniture and taking potshots at them. They were not very well trained, because half of the shots went to burning the expensive walls or breaking the intricate lights.

"You got it. There are only a few more guards ahead of you, but you should be able to go around them. Take a right from where you are and head upstairs."

To the right was a double door, so fancy it was made of wood. Who uses wood nowadays?!

"Sean!" He marked the door on his helmet HUD.

Sean nodded immediately, and threw trampled his latest victim to the ground. "Yar!" the big man yelled as he smashed head-first through the wood. It broke on contact. His charge carried him, stumbling, into the stairs. "This way!" he pointed, up.

The pressure was beginning to build from the back, where a storm of glowing bolts flew through the air. "Thomas!" Jennifer was waving at him from within the smashed doors. His rifle, a little awkward in her hands, forced the soldiers to duck as the walls around their faces exploded.

He fired the last two rounds of the clip, then took off like the devil was on his heels. Jennifer tossed something into his face. He grabbed it out of instinct, and with a single glance, tossed it from behind the back of the still-ducking soldiers. He flinched at the explosion, but managed to not trip on the stairs. They, too, were made of wood. Seriously, who did this guy think he was?

They encounter minimal resistance, in the form of a table placed at right around a corner so that anyone coming by would bump into it, and the terribly colored carpet so blinding Sean tore it up with his sword as he went along. They each had a set of trip mines, curtsy of Jennifer, which caused intermittent explosions a long way behind them.

At last, following Jenkins' directions, they arrived, in front of yet another wooden door, this one decorated with curvy lines of gold. Thomas blew off the cheap lock without hesitation and burst into the room, pistols raised. He had not expected Senator Holt to be in the middle of cleanup, where papers pooled in haphazard rivers, all over the floor. Fortunately, the senator surrendered, rather quickly, too. Unfortunately, they were about to be caught.

And it was up to the old man to tell them so. "You will never get away with this! My men will be here in a second." Another explosion shook the mansion, and the senator flinched.

Thomas stared at him menacingly, though the expression was wasted, as he could not see through the mask. "Oh, don't worry. We already have." Then, into the intercom, "Jenkins! Extraction?"

"Over your head."

Then the roof exploded. Well, more like shattered. The fancy plaster peeled to reveal a ship, hovering just a few feet above the destroyed ceiling. An underside-mounted turret fired through the open door, forcing the soldiers, who had already caught up, to duck.

"Let's go."

An invisible forced gripped his entire body. He would never get used to the feeling. With the senator's shaking arm in hand, he stared into the blue light as it brightened, and disappeared.


	2. Somewhere in Heaven

**PART I – The Golden Graveyard**

_We have lost the war, the war of galaxies, the war against ourselves. Except they are not us. They are our mirrors, images of us, to haunt us, and to kill us. We cannot win. We must win, but we cannot. They are everything we are, yet better. For all we can change and adapt, they can too, because after all, they are us, just in a mirror._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Somewhere in Heaven

"Hey, Foster, you may want to come and take a look at this," yelled Sean from somewhere down the hall.

"Yeah! I'll be right over!" he yelled back, hissing as the scorching coffee dripped onto his pants. He furiously wiped it with a napkin, but found the liquid did not leave his cloths so easily. There was definitely going to be a stain. He cursed at the odd spot.

"You better be careful there, unless you want to wear spotted pants for the next week until we wash clothes." He glared at Jennifer, who pretended to pick her nails. After a full second, she glanced at him quickly. "To be honest, you look quite dashing today. Minus your pants, of course."

He only sighed. "You're really difficult."

She grinned cheekily. "Oh, I know. And I will make your life as miserable as possible with that stain." Then she laughed at his dramatic huff.

He was saved from further embarrassment by Sean, who poked his head around a corner to stare into the dining room. "Foster, I don't care that I'm on your payroll, but stop your pretty flirting and get your ass into the com room now!" He disappeared. Thomas sighed again. He sulkily stood up, ignoring the little wave Jennifer sent his way, and made a variety of groaning as he trudged through the cramped hallways to the communication room.

It was a fancy place, as impressive and expensive as all of the rest of the cabins combined, maybe except the armory. Within here was the latest spying equipment money and threats could buy, from anywhere in the system, along with a projector communicator and encrypted listening devices. But not only, here was the strategic planning room, along with a window to gaze the stars outside, and a touchscreen organizer for when there were too many flying bugs and not enough cannons to shoot them all down. Speaking of, there was a rather large asteroid coming their way this instant.

"Jenkins, watch that asteroid, will you?"

"You got it."

The floor tilted as the flying rock moved over their heads.

_The Resolution_ was a state of the art combat and stealth frigate, designed to carry its passenger through the bulk of a solar storm or an inevitable planetary crash-landing. She had been expensive, a chunk out of all of their wallets, but she had been worth it. He couldn't remember the last time they had not all sat in the dining room, with their eyes closed, praying for a mission's success, or when Sean smuggled an entire crate of the finest Saturn cocktail, and they were drunk well past the next day.

"Foster, pay attention." Speak of the devil. Sean was snapping fingers into his face, which he backed away from, almost losing his balance and tripping to the floor.

For a moment, he was confused, as the floor seemed to rotate to the ceiling. Then a strong arm steadied him, and he was looking at a holographic projection of a board man, who looked ever so impressive in his military uniform. Medals decorated his chest like a plate of glittering armor. "Oh, right."

"Hello, Thomas," said the figure, with an air of superiority and disparagement. He hid his clenched fists behind his back. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"So it has," he replied, keeping his voice neutral. "I must say, I had not expected this … visit."

The figure barked out in laughter. "You may think you lost us, but know this: we are always watching you. For every move you make against the Alliance, we take note. Do not belittle us," he warned.

Thomas felt his lip tug in anger. "Right. So state your business, admiral, and then, if luck permits, we'll be both out of each other's hairs for the next decade."

The admiral did not look so happy to be dismissed, but he continued anyways. "Very well. Are you aware of the Alliance's efforts to explore Pluto?"

"Yes, but–"

"Good. We," he sure made it clear it wasn't him, "feel the need to recruit individuals such as you," more contempt. Oh, the joy, "to do some … say, examination work."

"Right. And what is this dirty work you want me to do for you?"

For a moment, the admiral looked like he was about to leap straight out of the hologram and strangle Thomas. But he only visibly composed himself, much to Thomas' disappointment. "We have recently received a message, in an alien language, coming from Pluto's general direction. Upon doing a little scouting, we discovered a base of some sort, hidden within the planet's surface. So far, all of the explorers we sent in have suffered a slight case of … amnesia." That sounded rather interesting, even if he didn't want to suffer the same amnesia himself. "So what we need you to do is go in and investigate the place."

"Why us?"

Now the admiral was beginning to look annoyed, though not at them, perhaps, but at someone off-screen. "Because I know you were the best goddam guy for the job in the whole system, Foster! And so does every one of these petty morons around me," he glared at someone invisible, "and the fact of the matter is, I want this done, and I don't want to spend the resources chasing you down, so let's make a deal: we pay you, to do this job for us, and we don't attack you on sight or put up rewards for your capture. Deal?"

He didn't answer immediately, trying to think it through. If what the admiral said was true, then this mission just turned from a fly-level bother to a possible mankind-wide threat, if any of those science fiction plays were any good for predicting the future. On the other hand, they could use some extra money, ever since the client refused to pay for Senator Holt's capture, and received a bullet in the head for it. "So … this payment …"

"Yes, this payment will be made as soon as you return what some sort of … artifact, I guess, as there is no other way to put it. Yes, an artifact, for our scientists to analyze. In credits, the payment you will receive for this mission will be a total of…" he looked down, as though counting, "twenty million credits. Standard Alliance currency, of course." The admiral smiled, like a shark. "So what say you? Money, or a lifetime of being hunted across the system?"

That was a no brainer. "It's a deal," he gritted out, from the back of his throat. His last image of the admiral was the smug man, with eyes of victory, disappearing from the hologram.

* * *

"So here it is: we go to Pluto, we get inside whatever base that caused amnesiac symptoms to anyone who entered before, we find some sort of artifact, we get the hell out of there. Simple, right?"

"Yeah to that. Should be a piece of cake."

"I don't know … There's something wrong about this whole mission."

"Eh. Say all you will, but the admiral's letter says it all: twenty million to retrieve an artifact. They might even consider paying us extra if the artifact turned out really useful."

"How do you know they won't break their word?"

"Trust me, I got a backup plan in case things go wrong."

"Backup plan?"

"Yeah, backup plan. But first, we need to pay a visit to Pol-Earth Station."

* * *

Pol-Earth Station, like its name stated, was a space station. It would seem small at first glance, but when you get closer, the thing is absolutely massive. A three-branch spine, made of reflective silvery metal, connected to three giant pods, each end of a branch to a pod. The pods were made of the same material, a special alloy of nickel, aluminum and titanium, which was dense enough to have its own gravitational pull, but strong enough to keep the structure intact even if it was hit by a meteor shower.

Located on the exact opposite of Earth, hence, Pol-Earth, the station was built as a stopping point for the distant travelers, and also as a commercial trade center, and in the past three decades or so, a housing of a small standing army, a direct result of the Civil War. Fortunately, however, as the station itself was mostly civilian housing, rich civilian housing, and markets, there were no warships asking for identification or guns pointed at them as they docked, not in the station's docking areas, but on the station itself. Suction caps extended, and the _Resolution_ attached herself to the station's outer walls.

"Alright, team. Who's ready to plant some bombs?"

* * *

"Any luck on the decryption, doctor?"

"Close. Based on the various pictures our teams have given us, I can more or less translate their language to English. However, there are still several repeating names that I have not had any luck at all."

"Good enough. We don't need to worry about the names. After all, if those demons plagued them thousands of years before, they are surely gone by now. I want you to stop focusing on their horror stories and try to duplicate the energy as quickly as possible."

* * *

Pluto, what a desolate piece of freezing rock. It is located more than far away enough from any space stations and colonized planets that the interest in the planet had gone from a mild recognition to a "Pluto, you mean the Roman god?" The only note about it was, when farther away, there appeared to be streaks of silvery flow on the surface. But up close, it was only more rocks, freezing, cold rocks, and ice, of course, that had not yet been disturbed for the past several millennia. Until now.

"Jenkins, land us close to that Alliance outpost."

"Roger."

Now dotted on its surface were giant machines, designed to drill into the planet's core to check the availability of certain rare ores so that big corporations could decide whether it was worthwhile to open up another mining planet in the system. Of course, the public wouldn't care. They didn't care the first time they announced Mercury was to be turned into a sponge for its rare resources.

The Alliance outpost grew from a little black dot to a jumbo of black shapes, outlined and dotted in blue. A skylight turned to illuminate the _Resolution_ as she descended, until, gracefully, she touched gently onto the surface of the dead rock. Outside, the world was nothing but an endless field of grey, scattered with the occasional chunk that rose about the average surface, and a beautiful sea of stars overhead in the blackness of space.

"Get your suits sealed up, lads, or you might taste first hand why nobody lives on this dead place." There were a grumbles and murmurs of consent.

He watched as the visual HUD blinked yellow, then green in his helmet. He was airtight now, and the cold temperature and the lack of breathable air could not reach him.

"Let's roll."

The ramp hissed as the exit cabin was sudden decompressed. His boot made a hollow knock on it as he took his first step, then the next. The sun glared into his eyes, so bright that the helmet automatically dimmed the entire world to keep him from going blind. As he held a hand over his eyes to block the glaring light, the wind hit him like a hammer from the side, almost tripping him. He pushed forward, towards the pair of the welcoming party, both of whom were attempting to keep themselves in the wind. Heavy cloaks fluttered around the two like shadows against the grey.

"Oiy! Nice weather today!"

One of the cloaked men laughed in response. "If only you could see the weather on worse days!" he shouted. He glanced behind him, where he was sure the rest of his team were piling out of the ship. "Are you the team Admiral Bailey told us to expect?"

"That's us!"

A hand grabbed onto his arm then. He glanced back and found Jennifer, her eyes wide, holding onto him like she was clinging to her life.

"Alright!" the cloaked man yelled, making himself heard above the howling winds. "We have orders to give you coordinates for a what, alien base? Yeah, alien base. But let's not talk here! My throat can't take all the shouting! Once you open a secure channel, we won't have to stand into this terrible wind anymore!"

"Done. We will be communicating via radio."

The man nodded and began making his way back. His acquaintance barely spared them a look before following.

Foster looked behind him. Jennifer was biting her lip in her little cute, worried way. Sean was staring at the back of the two mysterious benefactors, while Jenkins was staring off into space, her expression thoughtful and puzzled.

"Right. Let's go inside."

As he strode past, he heard just a whisper from Sean to Jenkins, "Something's not right on this planet."

* * *

_We have so far managed to decipher their language. Attached to this message is a visual translation key. Once you upload it to your helmets it should be able to translate any texts you find along the way._

– Admiral John Bailey

* * *

"Resolution,_ this is Pluto Climatology Base Alpha. Do you read me? Over._"

"_Resolution_ to Pluto Base Alpha, I read you clearly. Over."

The alien base was just three hundred miles north, said the scientist with the formality of practice. In between, as with the rest of the planet, there was absolutely nothing. The rock formations were certainly impressive at points, but most of the time they consisted of nothing but flat plateaus that sat high above them, as though waiting. They had an ominous feel to them.

"_The base should be just 300 miles north. I have sent the coordinates. Over._"

"Roger that, Base Alpha. Thank you for the assistance."

"_No problem. Good luck on your hunt._"

He could see something rising in the horizon, a massive structure, grey, featureless, like the rest of this rock. Here was the end of the world, literally. Cliffs rose, miles and miles into the hair, cutting this entire side of the planet off from the other. It was as though the ground itself began to separate.

"Thomas, did the admiral mention what the base looked like?"

He had not thought of that. How unperceptive of him. "No, but I figured we should know it when we see it."

A minute later,

"Well, kick me in the ass if that's not what we're looking for," came Sean's voice, as he scrutinized at something ahead.

"Will happily oblige," came Jenkins' voice, from the intercom, but even her weak humor was veined with awe. The cliffs were higher than they appeared at first glance, easily towering a mile into the air. A cave of sorts was almost built in, as it appeared, symmetrical and arched, towards a darkness beyond.

Thomas found himself leaning forward in his seat.

"Scan shows the entire plateau to be elliptic, about two miles long and a mile wide, with a flat edge at the bottom. We are currently at the flat edge," Jenkins reported, "The cave ahead is definitely artificial. The surrounding rocks show signs of being superheated then drastically cooled. I'm guessing that's when they, whoever they are, constructed the cave."

It came closer, like a maw, readying to swallow them whole.

"Let's get to it, then." He checked his suit the second time that day. System showed all green. Three dots appeared on his HUD, their status changing from a yellow "Pending" to a green "Ready."

"I can't park the ship inside the cave; it's too narrow. We will have to walk in ourselves."

The ship hummed as it touched down. From here, it seemed the cliff was a massive wall, hiding behind it all the secrets to the universe. In a way, he supposed it did. But when his boot touched the windy planet's surface again, he couldn't help but take a moment to stare. The jagged rocks that reached for the skies yielded to a strangely smooth entrance. If he had to guess, he would have said the interior was almost … carved, by blowtorches and a big jackhammer.

His boot crunched on a few loose stones that had not yet been blown to the skies by the hurricane torrent. Every step carried him a little closer to the gateway and its high arch, until if he wanted to see the top of the opening, he could have to tilt his head straight up. It was unbelievably dark inside.

"Turn on your flashlights, and try not to spook anyone."

Three more lights illuminated him instantly. Yet somehow it was still gloomy, as though night itself had taken residence within. From deeper ahead, he saw glitters of gold and white.

"Let's hope we find something quickly, because this place is freaking me out," said a quiet voice from his helmet. He silently agreed.

* * *

**A/N**

Thank you all for reading! :) I would appreciate some, or any, reviews on what you think of it so far, or what you like/dislike about it (I would prefer dislike, as that can help me improve the story), or just what you hope to see in the story in the future. The last one will help me greatly, as so far I'm not liking my own plot so much, so if anyone can recommend a great idea, I may use that idea to reconstruct the story to a better angle. And also, if you are curious (and since Fanfiction won't let me put specific frames in the character list), the featured frames will be Excalibur, Loki, Rhino and Mag, the very first four, and an unnamed frame (that I made up).

If you are here only to see Warframes bash skulls in (which I myself is a fan of), I would recommend skipping directly to _Where the Demon Resides_. Everything before is more or less just setting up the plot.

This story is inspired mostly by the lack of Warframe stories around! I know there are many, many Warframe players, and possibly a lot of them go on this site, so I would highly recommend you to create your own story and put whatever ideas you have down! As for the people who have already written stories (but have not finished them), I urge you to continue them! I see so much potential in some of your unfinished and abandoned stories (especially in the Cross-Over section). So go back to your old works, and see if you can bring them back to life!


	3. Still as the Wind

**Chapter 2**

Still as the Wind

[C&amp;O Medics Center Patient Log: Sergeant Bill Lawson]

DOCTOR: Can you tell us what happened?

PATIENT: (shouting) No… no! They are everywhere!

DOCTOR: Can you describe "them?"

PATIENT: (shouting) Everywhere, I tell you, everywhere!

DOCTOR: Who?

PATIENT: (shouting) Them!

DOCTOR: Describe them.

PATIENT: (pauses, then, whimpering) The shadows … they watched us, everywhere!

DOCTOR: Can you tell me what those shadows looked like?

PATIENT: Nothing. Everything. (whispering) Ghosts. And they're angry! (mumbling) Angry ghosts, yes, angry ghosts.

(silence)

DOCTOR: I'm afraid this session is over, sergeant. Have a good night's rest, and we'll see if you can remember more tomorrow.

PATIENT: (mumbling) Tomorrow is too late… They are everywhere.

* * *

He was never one for mysteries.

Back in the days of the war, when the colonies were united in their resolution to crush earth, and massive fleets blew each other to dust in the soundless vacuum of space, he had a job. His job was to kill the enemy, and no matter how many of them there were, he was to kill them all.

In the short time before he resigned, conspiracies within the government was only second to breathable air. It didn't take a genius to figure out that half the Alliance, including its many senators and high generals, earned more than ten times their supposed salaries, and lived in expensive mansions that only a few could dream of. It was then he decided enough was enough; he had no time to play games.

Yet here he was, playing the very game that Admiral John Bailey, back from the dead, dragged him into.

The walls seemed to press in as he walked forward, the little slimmer of gold growing larger and larger. The ground, once loose rocks, was replaced by a strangely smooth metal, which rung hollowly as their boots walked across its surface. His rifle was raised, in tight awareness, lest something leap from the darkness. But there was no darkness, just a deeper tunnel ahead, and the narrow walls that grew more and more limited.

Slowly the gold formed its shape, from an archway ahead to veins on the walls themselves, which were solid white, with swirls of some sort of patterns. The door was oddly shaped, like a flattened circle, as though something heavy pressed down upon it. The center consisted of three pieces, which were open to reveal more darkness inside. They were thrown aside haphazardly.

"Foster."

"Yeah?" he replied, keeping an eye on the ominous winds that blew from interior.

"The air here is different from outside. And warmer, much warmer."

"Yeah?" Something was in there. He could make out the faint outline of … were those boxes?

"Foster!" He jumped and turned, to find Jenkins staring intently at him. His cheeks colored as he realized he had no idea what she said.

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry." Something looked just a bit off about her. He stared, but could find nothing wrong.

"I said the air is different from the outside. It's warm, and breathable."

Suddenly, he realized what was wrong was that she had no helmet on. Instead, she was breathing (breathing!) without a mask on. "What happened to your helmet?" he managed to stammer out.

She shrugged. "I put it down, since I don't see the need for it. Scanner shows the air here is mostly nitrogen and in parts oxygen. In other words, it's like earth. Strange, huh?" She turned away, examining the pearl-white walls. "It's like somebody made this place to support life."

"No shit," he heard Sean whisper, but ignored that.

Still somewhat in disbelief, he pressed a button on his suit. Immediately his own helmet receded into his armor, leaving his head exposed. For a second, he almost expected himself to choke on the freezing dust of Pluto, but then his lungs kicked in, and he found himself breathing, just like he would anywhere else. With the howling winds outside, it seemed as though the aliens somehow made their own atmosphere, inside this cave. "Yeah… Real strange…"

They passed through the door, where he carefully stepped over and ducked under two of the pieces of what made the original, closed door. In his mind, he tried to picture the bottom piece coming up, and the top two swinging to the middle. It looked like they would fit.

"Well, I'm glad we didn't have to figure out how to pry this door open. Looks like the Alliance is good for something, after all." Sean's attempt at a joke hung dead in the air.

They entered a vast chamber, where the ceiling reached up to fifty feet into the gloom, and rails were the only thing between them and a long fall, into who knew what. Something glittered at the bottom of the fall, and he seriously hoped it wasn't bones.

Jennifer gave a little gasp as she looked down, while Sean gulped, his eyes widening just slightly. Jenkins, on the other hand, only screwed together her eyebrows and frowned, as though the design displeased her.

Ahead the chamber ended in a large, towering dome, as with the railings and the far height. In the circle of solid ground was a massive, cylindrical pillar, reaching all the way to the ceiling.

He stepped forward, wary, but at the same time awed. The pillar was almost as big as a building, racing up with its ivory surface and golden vines. As he approached, he noticed the floor here was not ivory-white, but glass, gloomy, murky glass. Strangely, what appeared to be a ringed bench around its base, made of the same white metal.

"Maybe they're expecting visitors," joked Sean a second time.

Shaking his head at his friend's foolishness, he instead leaned forward, seeing his own distorted reflection in the watery surface. There seemed to be something within, something … just in the corner, a fleeing shadow now as he searched for it. How strange.

"Wait." He was still in the middle of checking his face, the flicker just below his eyes. Jennifer was glancing back the way they came, except for … it wasn't exactly the way they came. Three identical tunnels each led off into the darkness under the milky white ceiling and the golden frames. He found himself turning, around and around. "I hope somebody remembers the way back? Or else we're going to get _really_ lost in here."

"I got it here," came Jenkins, who was busy tapping on a control screen, "The scanner is making a map as we go. So don't worry too much. We won't be lost. Hopefully."

"Well, that's real reassuring."

Thomas looked around, ignoring the little argument they couldn't keep themselves out of for even a moment's notice. Something lingered just outside the range of their flashlights. They looked … hungry. The murky glass seemed to twist under their feet.

"Hey guys," he motioned, keeping an eye onto the dancing shadows, "I think we should hurry this up."

No one argued as they half-ran forward, out of the large chamber.

Room by room they explored the alien place. Everywhere was the white and gold, as though a hidden treasure. Stairs led up and down, hallways turned left and right. Sometimes walkways had no rails, and they carefully made their way across massive chasms that fell down forever. Again, the strange glitter was at the bottom. Now he was sure it wasn't bones or pieces of dead armor.

At one point they encountered a sculpture of sorts.

"Is that … a tree?"

It sure looked like one, or a carving of one. A sprout of frozen, liquid whiteness grew from a pool of the same substance in a mass of thin threads, all of them not quite touching, yet dense enough that sight did not permeate. Upon farther examination, the thing was rock solid.

"Definitely not organic," reported Jenkins, "but not completely artificial either. I would say the tree somehow, I guess, grew, from that pool."

"It's beautiful," breathed Jennifer, who looked like she wanted to hug the picky branches. She circled around it twice, poking and prodding it with her finger, not fazed by its unearthly appearance.

He had to agree. It was certainly beautiful, but potentially deadly. There was no telling what it was supposed to be unless they ran some tests on its composition, or else for all they knew, it could be poisonous, or volatile. But so far, it was doing nothing, so he would leave it be, decoration or whatever. That was, until he turned around.

"Woah."

The same material grew from the ground only a bit farther away, but it wasn't a tree anymore. The massive root stretched to the high ceiling, at least fifty feet tall, and at least fifteen feet wide. It twisted and winded here and there, giving it the appearance of a gnarred branch. Smaller pieces broke off from the main mass, spreading to cover the ceiling in an umbrella of shiny white.

"That is one big tree."

"Yeah, and this place is seriously creeping me out. Let's get out of here. We can come back to admire this thing later," murmured Sean, eyes darting from one shadow to the next.

He couldn't help but agree, but also wondered Sean saw the same thing as him, the little demons that hopped out of sight as soon as he looked. Once he got back, he would definitely visit a therapist. "So I've been seeing shadows in this alien base on Pluto."

They edged around the massive, twisted column of a tree and the pit it emerged from, and creeped through another archway, of course gold, to yet massive chamber and another walkway, this one equally without rails, but the falls on either side were short. What appeared to be pools of water surrounded the room. Away, in the darkness, pillars stood, statues, silently watching them past. The walls, white, were farther away. He shined a flashlight into the pool. It looked very deep.

"Jenkins, is this water?"

He watched as she dipped a sort of probe into the liquid, then as the liquid seemed to swirl around the entry. She shook her head.

"I don't think so, based on how the liquid reacted to the probe, but the sensor is telling me it's water." She sounded puzzled; Jenkins was never puzzled.

He grunted and looked into the pool again. It looked certainly like water, and smelled like water, too. But it was too … clean. There were no rippled upon its surface, even after the probe retracted from the pool. Instead, it settled, as though undisturbed for the past millennium.

Carefully, he dipped a finger in. The suit automatically mark the contacting chemical as "_Chemical: H__2__O, also known as WATER. Hazard level: 0._" There were no wrinkles within the smooth surface, not even when he stirred the water. He knew something was wrong with this. He leaned closer, as his nose almost touched the pool. There was something deep, within. Something. It was circling them, like a predator its prey.

Far away, he heard Jennifer's voice, distorted to nothing but noise. There was no time to …

A splash sounded somewhere ahead. He squinted into the darkness, away from their walkway. A dark shape moved between the pillars of stone, which seemed to grow moving tentacles from their surfaces. He fell back in horror, as the shadow moved at them. Only a spine full of spikes was visible above the surface as it headed their way. The room was filled with screeches now, so loud.

He reached for his gun, but found it was gone. Eyes opened on the surface of the pillars. Large, orange, unblinking eyes. They stared at his misery and horror, feasting upon it like the finest dine. The shadow creature dipped down just before it reached the walkway, down into the pool, leaving behind no trace of its passage.

A deep groan sounded, vibrating within the chamber. He dared to peek into the pool again, and found the bottom suddenly lit, like a star, far away, so bright. A large shadow twisted and turned about, blocking the light. It was deep below, but rising fast. A limb reached for him, which grew and grew as it closed, from a pinpoint to a enormous tentacle, made of solid, white, frozen slime. It had no skin to cover its fleshy, marble meat. He couldn't make a sound as something latched onto his foot. He clawed, but could not find anything to grip. It dragged him, like a worm, to the water. He was drowning, drowning. So far away, even Jennifer's muffled voice couldn't reach him anymore…

* * *

"Hold him down! If he keeps doing that, he will drown!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?!"

"Well, you're about twice his size, so shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

"He's stronger than he looks…"

"Just get his helmet on. We can't risk having any more exposure to this air. No wonder the people before had, what did the admiral call it?, amnesiac problems? I bet they weren't not remembering, but went completely crazy. Who knows what all this stuff will do to a human long term?"

"And _someone_ said the air here was breathable."

"I know! I know. I just didn't think it would be tainted with enough hallucinogens to fuck up a drug lord's mind."

"Right. There, I got the helmet on. Now what?"

"Well, I guess we have to wait, since now we know all that feeling of dread was just this place playing tricks on us."

"Maybe if you can get Jennifer to sweet talk him out of his self-induced coma."

"Ha! That'd be a real show to see. If you can wake her up, be my guest."

* * *

There was no dream, only a darkness that stretched forever on. Where the hell was he?!

Ahead, a light appeared, so far away, yet so close. He tried to stumble towards it, but for every step he took, it seemed to leap farther away, until his legs wobbled from fatigue and his lungs burned from the lack of air. He stood there, gasping. Yet still the light remained just out of reach, taunting him with its dancing spirit.

"You are a strange one."

The voice, feminine, distant, mournful, came from everywhere. It echoed, despite the lack of surfaces for it to echo on. He turned, round and round, searched for its owner. Yet there was only more darkness to greet him from every side, and the distance light to encourage him on.

"But are you enough?"

Something appeared between him and the light. The silhouette appeared to be a woman, as far as he could tell, though the strange attachments to her head and sides made it slightly difficult to discern. From the light, he could make out the golden ornaments and the white armor that lined her body. Something about the color scheme spoke out to him, but he could not say why.

"Who are you?" he managed.

"I am the goddess in the night. And you, you are quite unlike the others," she noted, the voice, still distant, luring, yet also with just a whisper of curiosity and weariness.

"What do you mean, 'others?' What–? Why–?"

"The others were weaker. They broke down, long before they reached your stage, turned into madness and consumed by the void. I am impressed with your tenacity."

"What are you even talking about? Why am I even here? Where the hell is here?" Questions exploded from him, too rushed to be contained, and too demanding. His head swam in a lake of glue, unable to escape, only watching.

"If you want to know, then you must activate the connection."

So much for a straight answer. "What connection?"

"Find the control room. There is something there, a lead to your answer. But you must find the control room."

"Control room? What control room? And how the fuck am I supposed to find this damned control room? Why–?"

"Follow the footsteps. They will lead you where you must go."

The light was brightening. Soon, all that remained of the figure was a blackened shadow, slowly being consumed by the expanding brightness. But he had more questions. He tried to reach out, but found his feet rooted. Instead, he could only shout, and hope for an answer.

"Wait! What do you mean?! Explain!"

Her voice became stronger, and louder, until they pounded inside his head, like a drum, booming with its intensity. "Find the control room, but do not awake the demon! You must NOT wake the de–"

The light exploded, devouring all, then disappeared, like a dim whisper, blown away in the wind.

* * *

"Where the fuck am I?" was the first thing out of his mouth, blinking the lingering shadows from his eyes. He knew he was lying down, and that the ground was hard. His helmet was back on, blurring out the rest of the world. There seemed to be water, the tickling edge, just below his nose. He fought a sneeze, unsuccessfully, and grimaced as the sound echoed loudly.

"Hey look who's back. Hope you've had a good sleep, lieutenant, because we almost left you."

This earned an admonishment from another voice, annoyed, "Give him a break. He probably feels like he had just woken from the dead." Then, a softer tone, to him, "Tom, are you ok?"

He blinked rapidly. Someone had lifted his shoulders from the ground, plopping him into a sitting positions. There were moving shapes, dancing in front of his face. For a moment, he wanted to lash out in danger, but then some sense must had came into his brain, because he blinked again, and saw Jennifer's face, in her helmet, just inches from his own. He barely contained his outburst of surprise.

"You look lovely as ever, dear."

She grinned. "Yeah, he's ok. Come on then, we need to be moving."

She tugged onto his arm, with so much force that he thought she might just pull it from its socket. Fortunately, the pressure on his back also pushed, and he soon found himself standing wobbly, a heavy arm on Jennifer's shoulders to keep himself upright, and a personal fitness coach to salt his cuts.

"Get your ass moving, Foster. I don't care if you really died back there, but if you don't walk, I swear I will jam this rifle down your throat and make you spit bolts for the next year and a half!" Sean encouraged, though that didn't make him feel any better.

The room slowly came into existence between his friends. The stone pillars began metal columns to support the tall ceiling. The water was rippling now, and barely ankle deep. He must have been real drugged if he saw what he saw before.

"Where do we go now?" asked Jenkins. "This place is empty, completely, utterly, empty. The admiral sent us on a wild goose chase!" She rolled her eyes at the sky in a mixture of anger and irritation.

"I don't know, but I got the feeling something is here, still."

Something ticked just at the back of his mind. A thought, a memory… He needed to do something. Right, something, not vague at all. Something needed to be done, but what? He crunched his mind for answers, demanding it yield its secrets. It obeyed.

"The control room," he choked out, his throat catching on the last word. He wasn't sure why, but he knew, just knew, that he had to go there. Why? He had no idea. The memory where the reason hid was a blank hole.

"The control room? Of course… This place ought to have a control room…" Jennifer looked around. Too bad there were no signs. Unless…

Dark, shadowy footsteps walked with them, like a ghost. They stopped where they stood, facing them, as though waiting. He narrowed his eyes. However, instead of some dark creature leaping at them, the footsteps turned right and walked away. They dissolved within five steps.

Was he hallucinating? Certainly the others couldn't see them, or else they would have pointed them out. But why him? What was he supposed to do? Follow them? Yes, follow them. He was supposed to follow them. He could not remember why, but the gut feeling was strong. So he exactly that.

He followed their direction. The way led to an open, rectangular door, or half open, as it were, and broken, it seemed. At the top of the frame was a series of curved slashes and dots. He stared, sure of their significance, then blinked, because the symbols were changing as he watched. They scrambled and unscramble, back and forth, until they formed words, in English. He was confused for a moment, until he remember the translator the admiral provided them.

"'Glory to the Orokin?'" he murmured, tasting the words in his mouth. Something sounded off about them. "The Orokin? What is an Orokin?"

"Foster, you still there?"

He jumped, so absorbed that he had forgotten where he was. Sean was heading his way, a worried expression on his big face, followed closely behind by the other two. He managed to nod.

"Yeah. I just found this sign. Check it out. The admiral's translator works."

He waited while their translators kicked in and watched the puzzlement on their faces. Tick, tock. After three seconds, Jennifer finally shrugged.

"I don't know what an Orokin is, but this looks like some sort of … praise? I'm guessing 'Orokin' is probably a person or something similar."

"Could be their god," offered Jenkins.

"That too."

The footsteps were walking away again. They led through the doorway to the darkness beyond, where he could see another massive chamber. Something reflected back his flashlight softly. He led the way, and the others followed, though he couldn't help but catch their nervous expressions at his abnormal behavior. Hell, even he was nervous about himself.

They passed columns that supported the ceiling in the chamber. They were wider than he could possibly put his arms around, and white and gold, like everything else around here. He paused as he realized something was written on them all, repeating and repeating, like a record.

_Rise, children of the Empire, and bring pain to our enemies!_

Positively creepy.

"What are they, a religious cult?" whispered Jenkins, as though the very words could call the attention of the ghosts to them. He kept silent, for the footsteps had disappeared from sight. They seemed anxious.

Turned out what was reflecting the light was another tree, grand, but not as big as the massive, twisted branch they witnessed earlier. This one was shaped more like a tree, tall and mighty, with a healthy flourish. At the base of its silver pond was a little sign.

_We are the Orokin; we are strong; we stand tall; we shall be kings_.

"Yeah, definitely crazy."

_"Tell me, soldier, do you know your orders?"_

_ He didn't answer._

_ "Tell me!"_

_ "Sir, yes, sir!"_

_ "Then why didn't you obey them?"_

_ "Sir, the orders were wrong, sir!"_

_ The massive drill sergeant's face loomed close. He sweated, but kept his posture and shape, waiting for the inevitable punch that would follow. Yet none did._

_ "Do you know your duties, soldier?"_

_ "Sir, yes, sir!"_

_ "Then follow your orders! I don't care if the order says take a gun and shoot your officer. You do it! Understood?"_

_ "Sir, yes, sir!"_

"Thomas?"

He blinked, and the drill sergeant's face was gone, replaced by Jennifer's cute, concerned one. He blinked again.

"Yes, I'm fine," yet his jaw tightened even as he replied, "just remembering old memories. That's all."

She didn't say anything, though he knew she suspected what he was talking about. They had been comrades since the days before the outbreak of the war, and she knew more or less his entire life.

The footsteps led the way, unhurried, yet somehow jumpy at the same time. They disappeared to the right of the massive tree, into the darkness.

He gave her one last, steady look, to say that he would reveal his mind eventually, then he brushed past, and followed his invisible guide. He felt the hot stares of the three on his back, but he could not turn now. He was committed. He would see this through, then he would leave this hell of a place forever. Damned be their ghosts and their cult. He didn't want either in his life.

* * *

**A/N**

**Nyx **(/nɪks/; Greek: Νύξ, "Night") – Roman (in Latin): Nox – is the Greek goddess (or personification) of the night. (Source: )


	4. The Grand Machine

**Chapter 3**

The Grand Machine

"Doctor, how is the progress so far?"

The aged man looked up from his workstation, which consisted of a hive of mechanical arms to put together, screw in, seal, burn, cool whatever piece of strange metal that made its way to his desk. Currently on top was a glass cylinder, capped at both ends by a metal shell and wires, lots and lots of loose wires. They sparked bright as the robotic arms continued to fuse them.

"Their machines are more complicated than I ever anticipated. This will take more time."

"How much more time?"

The cylinder suddenly crackled with blue electricity, burning across the air like lightning. However, it only lasted a second at most before vaporizing into the air, gone.

"Months, unless I can somehow replicate their energy. The machines require an incredible amount of power to be operated. Until then, I can build only close replicas, but they cannot function."

"The newest expedition team I have sent in will be able to acquire solid results, I'm sure. As for the energy … how much energy do you need?"

At this the old man fixed him with a dead stare.

"Enough to black out an entire planet, if you want a large shipment of the infantry weapons, and more than the sun can probably burn, if you want to equip all your fleets too."

He pursed his lips. "Right… Don't worry about the energy problem. Just get the weapons in order. We will then decide from there."

* * *

"We're here," he announced, stopping short of a circular chamber. She could see his flashlight as it jumped from one corner to the next, and his bloodshot eyes as he stared.

Something was wrong with him, from that moment he came to his feet after being knocked out by the hallucinogen and almost drowned himself. His eyes were blood red, as though the world was not enough for him. His movements were jerky, as though hung by strings. Even his stance was hunched, animal, instinctual. He had led them here, but this place, called the _Bridge_, as by the sign high above the doorway. It felt strange, as though the heart of a beast, the rest of the base its limbs and its innards, from which they zigzagged through its intestines.

She couldn't help but shiver, and despite Thomas' strange behavior, needed something familiar to hold onto. He didn't turn at her touch, nor when Sean muttered under his breath about how he would blow this place to pieces after this mission. Instead, he stared at the giant statue that took up most of the room.

As far as she could tell, it was humanoid, but the resemblance to their species ended there. Armor covered it from head to toe, encasing the figure in metal. What appeared to be a feminine figure was turned into a demon by the blade within her hands, poised to strike. The faceless mask seemed to watch them as they filed into the room. And, just to keep the color scheme, the entire statue was painted gold.

A little sign was at the base of the pedestal.

_May our demons save us all_.

"That's a bit weird," she wondered aloud. The statue did not answer. Thankfully.

Thomas was already moving forward, completely brushing past the statue to around its back, where another door sat, sad, grey, dead. Sean came to stand beside. She eyed him; he returned the expression. _Something's wrong with him_, she mouthed, pointing a finger at the retreating man's back, disappearing around the giant. He in turn gave her a good stare, then only shrugged and followed.

Through the next door was the supposed control room. It was huge, so big that it could fit the entirety of _Resolution_ inside and still have space for people to move around freely without feeling cramped. The majority of the frontal half was covered in a golden egg, or rather the pieces of the inside of half of a golden egg. Its smooth surface made up the walls, connected to a series of golden wires to a panel of some sorts in the middle of the room. The ivory floor clicked sharply under their boots. The panel seemed to glow as they approached.

Thomas was in a daze. He stared at the room, slightly swaying on his feet. Somehow the hallucinogen was affecting him more than any other member of the team, so much so that he was still under its effects even after a thirty-minute insulation. He took a step, as though to do something, then paused, forgetting. She bit her lip, worry pressuring like a overloaded nuclear reactor. But before she could decide her next actions, he suddenly, without warning, collapsed, dead in a heap. The three of them hurried to his side in an instant. Carolyn began tapping on his suit.

"Still alive, just unconscious."

"What do we do?" her voice a whisper, barely penetrating the dark gloom that had settled around them in their distraction.

"Leave him be. It's probably a side effect of the poison he inhaled. It should go away…" Carolyn looked worried as she said this, but felt enough confidence in her words to stand up. "But let's not fret over him. We should see why he's brought us here, and maybe finish this stupid mission while we're at it."

Sean grunted as he stood, clearly in agreement. He began assessing the array of strange panels and empty, golden shells that lined the room.

But she was not happy at leaving him like this. However, seeing that she would receive no help from the pair of curious monkeys, she reluctantly stood too.

The little panel in the center of the room glowed brightly at her as she warily approached. It was of intricate design, taking the shape of overlapping bubbles. However, there were no visible buttons on the screen, nor controls as her hands searched up and down the flimsy, golden edges. She circles it twice, in a game of cat and mouse. She raised a finger to poke the screen.

"Quiet!" Sean whispered, loudly. She stilled, unsure what he was talking about. It took her ears a moment to adjust, to the tiniest of tremors and the little disturbances.

They seemed to come from every direction, and she was sure it wasn't just another trick of the mind now. She watched in concern as Sean and Carolyn turned in circles, their guns pointed at every shadow, on the least chance something was still alive after centuries in this place.

A glow distracted her. She gasped as she looked down, causing both of the others to turn and stare at her. The surface of the panel her finger touched began to emit a bright blue, growing more and more intense. Instinctively she snatched her finger back, but the glow did not stop. It expanded, to the entire screen of the panel, then out of the panel, to all the other little machines that lay dead for so long. The shells that had served as walls lit up from within, like lightbulbs rather, and flashed an array of symbols.

A pleasant voice announced "_Tioq ci edqoweqo._" On the screen appeared names; they rung no bells in her head. A map of some sort was shown on the center piece, almost like…

"Stars…" Carolyn whispered.

Sean looked like he wanted to say something, then almost fell to his feet. The entire floor shook as something took hold of it.

* * *

"Sir, we're receiving an unknown signal from orbit. Should I attempt contact?"

"Yes."

"This is Pluto Climatology Base Alpha. Do you copy? Repeat, this is Pluto Climatology Base Alpha. Do you copy? Over."

The response was a series of static.

"Sir, I don't think they can hear us."

"Try to connect to their channel."

"Yes, sir." More static. "I'm getting something, but it's not … words?"

"What? Open it up."

The female voice was pasted with more static. "_Edqoweqote fesowi._"

The mechanical voice gave it a dull response. "_Vi edditi fipoidno._"

The crackles of bad connection followed.

"And where is this transmission coming from?"

"Just a couple hundred miles north of us, sir. It's pretty close."

"A couple hundred miles north… Isn't that…?"

"Yes, sir. I'm trying to contact them through their channel, but no one is responding. Something had cut off all signal to the area."

"Ah, I see. Then let us pray their mission goes well."

* * *

"_This is a big gamble you are pulling here. There are too many wrongs that can potentially leave us worse off than before._"

The man, at least he thought it was a man, spoke with hesitancy. He couldn't see him clearly, as he was cloaked in some sort of shadow. An occasional limb, thin as those of the dead, decorated in twisted armor, could be seen through the smoke. However, the figure itself was blended in too well with the darkness to even discern its height.

"_I realize. But sometimes these are risks you have to take. After all, we will not have such a chance again for the next century, if we are lucky. This must be done, and I will see it through._"

The voice. He recognized it. It was from the woman, the woman within the light, who guided him through the alien place. She sounded firm, but tired. Her form, too, was blurred by the shadows, but instead of the skeletal frame of the man, she was encased in scaled armor.

"_Fine, if you are to be so stubborn. But have you contacted our brothers and sisters in the old system?_"

"_No. They are now still asleep, as with him. We cannot let any of them wake, for if they so, they will wake him too, and our mission will become ten times more difficult._"

He had no idea what they were talking about, but something about their tone was just … off. There was no other to describe it, as their voices were normal, with the exception that they echoed from the shadows. But the words were wrong. Wrong, as in they were not words, but sounds, only. The language they spoke in was something strange, that required too many strange sounds to be strung together. It was a mystery how he understood it all.

"_Yes._"

"_I sense unrest in you, brother._"

A throaty laugh, amused. "_You should stay out of my mind, sister. There are too many deaths there._" A pause. "_But yes, you are right. We can do little to keep our plans on course from here. Even if we can somehow directly control their actions, it will still be a very, very unviable task._"

The room slowly came into order. Walls, made of smoke, rose from the ground to enclose the room, which was circular in shape. A desk came into existence between the speaking figures, and unused chairs too.

"_No, I am capable of– Wait. I sense … disturbance. Someone is watching us. We will speak another time._"

The world began to fade, and along with it, the figures. The shadowed female seemed to be searching, though not with her eyes. Her presence grew to loom over the room, then to beyond the room. However, she did not see him, for he was too far away already. Something tugged at his foot, with just enough force to send him tumbling through the non-existent air. The darkness flashed, and he was elsewhere.

* * *

"Thomas, wake up! Thomas!"

The floor was trembling, like an earthquake. His head ached, along with his limbs. He felt like he had fallen off a tall cliff with no parachute, and managed to his every single boulder on his way down. He groaned and managed to lift his head. The floor shook some more.

"Thomas! Look at me! Damn you!"

He blinked. The world was coming back into focus. He could make out Jennifer's face, looming largely in his vision. Impulsively he ducked his head back, and earned himself another sore on the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Ugh," the frustration in her voice was almost tangible as she tugged at his shoulders. "Come on! We got to get moving!"

As if on cue, a heavy smash echoed from far away.

He hurried himself up, wobbly and unstable, and managed to hold onto Jennifer without falling. The world did a spin, and he almost fell back down.

"What happened?" he asked, swaying lightly on his feet, his voice gargles even to his own ears.

"Your girlfriend there," Sean jerked his head, "did something to this place. Now we're just hoping the ceiling doesn't come down on us." He glanced up unconsciously.

"Sounds fun."

"You bet."

Another quake shook the walls. Jenkins tapped on the floor thoughtfully. "I think it's time to, say, strategically retreat."

Sean didn't like that. "But what about the mission?"

"Fuck the mission. Bailey knew he was sending us into our deaths, so why bother? After all, even if we do nothing, we can just go back to the way we were."

* * *

It was strangely bright. Everywhere what was supposed to be the dark corners were suddenly lit up like fireworks, clear as day, despite the dark skies of the planet outside and the enclosed walls. However, it did not mean that he didn't appreciate the beautiful and powerful architecture, where through each door was another ceiling fifty feet tall, and the still pools of water that reflected their terrified images back to them.

They passed the statue, which stood still as ever, still warding away the angry ghosts from the center room. The doors opened automatically to welcome them through, as opposed to where they were forced to pry them open. At times he wondered why such large entrances were needed. Surely they weren't all for decoration.

They weren't.

Crunch.

He looked down. He seemed to have stepped on a panel of sorts. It blended in well with the floor, which he supposed was why he didn't see it. Instinct from years of experience told him to roll, and he did, narrowly avoiding the missing panel, which had slid open, and the blue energy field that was left in its wake. Sean stopped right in his tracks, causing Jennifer to bump into his back.

"Booby trapped," he murmured, "we should have seen that one coming." He looked ahead, where Jenkins had stopped to see what was happening behind. "Be careful. We don't know what other defenses the aliens have left here." She nodded in response, and proceeded at a much slower rate, keeping her scanner in front of her. He waved for the other two to follow, and then crept forward himself.

The next hallway branched left and right. Jenkins took the right immediately, following her map, but he stopped for a second. A single bronze plate hung just at eye level at the mouth of the left hall. _The Demons Will Be Our Salvation._ A cold breeze seemed to be drafting from that side.

He felt Sean pat him on the back. "If you want to go that way, be my guest, but I choose life."

It took Jennifer's tug to finally move him from his spot. He noticed the other three shared a look, but was not prying enough to ask. It was awkwardly quiet until they met their first guard.

"Stop," hissed Jenkins through hushed breath. With a hand, she waved the lot of them back to around a corner, then peeked onward, at a large room ahead.

The strange humanoid, whatever it was, hadn't spotted them yet, instead leisurely sauntering forward, oblivious to the intruders just behind. When it turned at the juncture of its patrol, Jenkins ducked her head back with a snap and a barely controlled gasp. "Looks like some sort of robot. I guess it only came out 'cause we activated this place."

The footsteps of metal against metal closed, then stopped, and departed away. Thomas only let out his breath then. "Alright. We don't know enough about this place to find a shortcut around the thing, so next best option: we take it out. Hopefully it is only a light guard and not one of those Alliance Peacemakers." There were grimaces around as they remembered. "Ok, Jenkins, please tell me you brought your rifle." At her shake of a head, he continued, "Here, take my pistol. It's anti-material, so should do the trick. Now, Sean, when she fires that shot, I want you behind the thing, and if it so much as twitches, you smash it. Good?" A nod. "Jennifer, with me."

As the guard made its second round, he nodded to Jenkins, who skillfully rolled into the open and primed the pistol, while Sean darted diagonally to ambush the robot from the left side. He and Jennifer instead primed their rifles and set targets.

"Steady…"

The shot rang out, hollow and deadly. It nailed the robot in the back of the head, so powerful that it displaced its mechanical head and left it standing there, as though shocked. Then Sean came in and brought up his shotgun. After another three booms that echoed through the room, what was originally a functioning automaton was now a golden armor encasing a loop of fried wires.

Jenkins gave Sean a look as she came to inspect the hunt. "Really. Talk about overkill."

He grinned. "It twitched, so I gave it three good blasts. Won't twitch again."

Thomas ignored their squabble and bent down to get a close look. The robot's head appeared to serve no function other than cosmetics, as there was no wires connecting it to the body. Instead, it appeared to be not attached at all. Only a hole was there, from where the bullet entered. The neck of the golden armor was untouched. There was no ripping or tearing as it detached from the shoulder.

The rest of the body was, too, in bad shape, mostly due to the massive hole the shotgun tore through its back. In the center was something that appeared to have instead burst out. Might be the energy core or whatever these aliens used as a power source. Fused to one arm was a gun of sorts, though he wasn't one to take it apart and see; a handle was clearly for the other hand to grasp. Other than that, there was no more obvious weaponry. He supposed it was just a low level grunt.

"Looks like someone took an Alliance soldier, put him in a different armor and painted him gold," noted Jennifer.

He shrugged. "Personally, I don't want to find out how they made these. Come on, the sooner we get out of here, the better."

He took a step towards the tall door ahead, which resembled a cylinder. However, before he was even close to it, the cylinder rotated, and suddenly something appeared from the other side. It was a tall one this time, over seven feet at least. From so close, he could make out that the head was in fact floating, and a single, blue eye was in the center of the helmet. The soldier turned its massive barrel of a weapon to bear, and he found himself running for his life.

* * *

"_The alarms are ringing. They have failed._"

"_Not quite. I can still– No! He's lost! He has freed himself!_"

"_Someone powerful enough to thwart you in the mind, sister?_"

"_No. It was my own mistake. No matter, I will fix this, one way or another. We are too close to give up now._"

* * *

He grunted as energy shards flared against his shield. A few bullets didn't hurt so much; too bad the mechanical soldier was pouring them out like a hailstorm. The machine gun, with its huge barrel and its ridiculous fire rate, swept back and forth through the room, forcing all four of them to duck and cover behind whatever happened to be around. He was behind a pillar. A few feet to his right was another pillar, behind which was Jennifer. She tensed the endless barrage managed to bombard both their positions with more firepower.

"What the fuck is this thing?" he heard Sean yell, as he unleashed a blast with his shotgun, then ducked again as the soldier returned fire without any noticeable damage.

"Hell if I know. Shoot it!" Jenkins yelled back as her pistol nailed the automaton in the head, which bounced back into position, as though held by an energy field of some sort. She yelped as her shield flared against the bolts and rolled away.

He looked to Jennifer, who gave him a quick nod. She tossed him a metal ball, then took another herself. Behind them, he could hear Sean curse again, followed by another shotgun blast. More shots, more spray. Finally, the firing died down. He peeked to see the soldier pop out a box of what might have been magazine and withdraw another from nowhere.

"Now!"

He tossed his ball at the robot, who turned to watch him. The grenade bounced off the soldier's head, then exploded in a deadly blossom of electric shard. He watched in satisfaction as blue arcs consumed the soldier in its splendor, and the soldier as it jerked from the shock.

_Not immune to electricity, huh?_

Before the robot could recover and reload its weapon, a pair of rifles unleashed all their firepower point blank into its heavy armor. The blue glow around it only lasted a second, then disappeared as the shield was overloaded. Jenkins' expert shots tore through the armor at its chinks. The soldier tried one last attempt to reach for him, but by then it was already scrap metal. The seven-foot robot fell in a heap to the floor, smoking from the amount of shots its absorbed.

"Guess what?" Sean picked up something dropped onto the floor, holding up both the empty magazine and the full one the soldier had dropped while being electrocuted, "I found our fucking objective. Let's let the hell out of here before any more surprises show up."

He couldn't agree more.

* * *

_Evolution_.

The words stared at him as he blew them away, tearing a hole in the armor with his weapon. The soldier stumbled off, clutching at its chest. Another took its place, then fell onto its back as Sean kicked it with full force in the head and opened up it up with the shotgun. More shots flew over their heads. There seemed to be an endless supply of these robots.

"Where the hell are these things coming from?" someone yelled into the intercom. He didn't reply, not as another robot almost tackled him under its weight. But before it could actually crush him, he managed to roll aside, letting it hit the floor instead.

_War._

This one was so ridiculous that he didn't just shoot it, but also stuffed a grenade into its chest cavity and then flung the corpse down a flight of stairs to blow up more of them.

Through the entire fight was deathly quiet, an unusual change from the usual humans. It unnerved him in his core, and he found himself growing more and more nervous as the fight continued, despite the fact that these machines had as much intelligence as a street rodent on Saturn. The silent killer, no emotion, no fear, and fortunately, no brains, either. They just swarmed them in every direction, and even going as far as to melee them if close enough.

His glove punched aside a robot to reveal another behind it, which he reduced to a smoking pile.

"Look out! Peacemaker!"

He turned and watched in horror as the huge humanoid unleashed its machine gun and opened fire, right at Jennifer. In a yell of desperation, he raised his forearm, and the grapple hook scored a direct headshot, which caused the soldier to stumble, then focus on him with its murderous, apathetic blue eye. However, before it could fire its weapon again, he tugged on the grapple hook, and the humanoid stumbled forward, to receive Sean's shotgun at a range of approximately two inches. As the dead soldier collapsed, more smaller ones poured out from a nearby doorway.

"Stop calling them Peacemakers! You'll give me a heart attack."

Another one followed the group of robots in front of it and brought its gun to bear.

"On second thought, let's not worry about what to call them and run!"

The barrage of energy followed them into the next room. His shield flared against the firepower, but managed to hold its own, at least until he rounded onto a stairwell, only then reporting him of its critical capacity reached. An EMP grenade caused the group chasing them to shrink back in circuit pain. They raced ahead, occasionally throwing a trip bomb here and there, and listening to the distant explosions.

However, as they neared the entrance, towards the three-way room of the grand pillar, they realized what awaited them wasn't salvation, but death, in the form of an enormous, mechanical robot, over twenty feet tall, buffed with enough armor to make it a bulk. Its single blue eye stalked to their time forms, and a large gun pointed into their faces.

He barely had time to say "Split up!" before the weapon discharged, the shot hitting the floor and throwing up a bright explosion of blue and green. He covered his eyes as he ran, almost blind, while firing with one hand. Another explosion rocked behind him, and he found himself blown off his feet, sprawling over the floor. Luckily Sean's shotgun distracted the robot as it attempted to stomp him. He crawled, to where his weapon landed just a bit farther away. Sounds of rapid firing was everywhere.

The robot was shooting with his other arm now, spraying the area with what looked like molten metal. The projectiles splattered on impact, and hissed as they can into contact with the walls, which almost seemed to distort at the high temperature. His sightseeing ended short as the spray turned to him, and he could almost feel the intensity of the heat as the lava came near his face.

And then Jenkins had the craziest idea ever.

The robot stopped firing its gun for the one second to retarget, and a bullet launched into the barrel of the weapon. Bullseye. The armor exploded. A blue star lit the room with its intensity. He shied his eyes away, even the shaded helmet not completely blocking the blinding light. When he looked again, liquid fire dripped from the giant's elbow, the rest of the arm nowhere to be found.

For the moment, even the robot looked shocked. Then it raised its other arm, and an explosion launched Jenkins into the air. She landed farther off, and didn't get up.

Sean was running circles around the giant's feet, occasionally popping a shotgun shell into its underbelly. It turned and turned, but couldn't find the time to charge its cannon. However, it was capable of sweeping down with its arm, and almost scored a hit. A grenade bounced off its armor and exploded into a spectacular cloud of gray dust. Sean narrowed dodged the whack and rolled away, leaving the robot blind in the confusion.

Thomas never stopped shooting, emptying clip after clip of ammo into the giant's back. A grenade cracked the chest plate and a shotgun blasted open a knee cap. The golden armor shattered. It tried to fire another shot, but as the bullets tore into its inner machinery, it could not stand. The explosion went into the ground, blackening it. The massive guardian finally fell.

Jennifer was the first one to be by Jenkins' side. The faint breathing was barely audible. "She's alive. But we need to get out of here. If we don't soon…" Suppose Sean snuck something into his pocket.

Thomas picked up the map. "Let's go then." Another explosion came from far away, the last trip mine. The sound of heavy metal footsteps came closer and closer, but they were already away. They emerged into the cave with its smooth walls, then into the deadly wind, where they struggled to carry the limp aboard. Finally, they were off, lifting into the air, away from the alien construct, away from the impending death. The robots never followed them out, presumably to return to guard this place, for the rest of eternity, or whenever their power sources run out.

"Good riddance," he muttered, as the cave and the cliff grew more and more in the distance, "Sean, please tell me you still have those two magazines from the Peacemaker."

"Nope," then at his frown, Sean grinned, "I got something better." He held up a strange, egg-like object. "Energy cell. The admiral did say if we get something good, he'll pay us extra. Guess what? Let's get our bonuses."

* * *

**Update: **Added the next part to this chapter.

**A/N**

Inspiration from Corrupted Lancer, Corrupted Heavy Gunner, Hyena NG.

According to the lore I've been researching, the game Dark Sector, which happened on earth, took place a long time before the Orokin Era. So I guess this is a slight AU, or that humanity re-evolved to present day after the death of the Orokin Empire, however you choose to see it.


	5. Long Live the King

**PART II – Dreams from the Past**

_Survivalists we are, yet we are utterly helpless against the impending doom. Our machines to journey into the Void were merely scandals to appease the public, but they must never know the Void is not meant for them. In the Void are the nightmares we fear in our sleep, yet it is also our salvation. The warriors will be ready soon, and with it, our victory. Glory to the Orokin!_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Long Live the King

* * *

What a beautiful place to be secluded so.

He stood on his personal shuttle, a gift of the emperor, gazing onward to the massive construct ahead, barely contained within the view screen. Splendorous would not be the word to describe it. The enormous space station, decorated in his home colors of gold and white, sat still as ever in space, waiting for the day for its completion. So far, the sphere itself was missing several chunks, and the ring was barely in shape. It would be a long while indeed until its operation.

"Admiring the view, warrior?"

He didn't need to turn to know who it was. The officer had been assigned to his wellbeing, they said, but he knew it was a leash, on all of them, that he did not go crazy as he endured once again the pain of the Void, or else had fantasies of the Unspeakable Sins.

"It reminds me of what we lost."

Thousands of lives lost, thousands of brothers and sister, millions of unknown faces, floating forever away. At times he thought he heard their voices, crying in despair.

A hand was affectionately on his shoulder. "War is a brutal time."

He didn't care so much for the woman, not her seductive smile, nor the closeness he always found himself in. Truthfully, emotions, such as love, care, disgust, or even hatred, had been lost on him. He had been broken as a child, where sentiment was forcefully squeezed out and tossed aside. _No need for a weapon to feel._

"Tomorrow we need to leave. The generals are already pulling back for us to engage."

"You mean for me to engage."

She hesitated. "Yes," she said slowly, "they are worried. We cannot afford to lose any more ground, or else…"

War was brutal. There was no other way to put it. Too often were the nights he found himself dreaming of death and killing. But he could not escape them, the killings or the loss. It was his duty, despite himself. Duty above all, he had once preached.

"Very well. You may as well get some rest, Tessa. We will depart tomorrow."

* * *

"Ten years ago I would have killed to be here, and now look where I am."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Ah. Perhaps Sean's bad humor is rubbing off on me."

"Hmm. It doesn't fit you."

He stared out the window at the distant mountains and the mass of pinpoints of skyscrapers. Despite their location at the very tip of their building, featuring one hundred and fifty floors, the massive corporation towers still dwarfed them. Instead of what people would expect to be a scenery view point, he instead had to look up to see the sliver of sky that was just barely visible, peeking at him from its blueness.

"You know what? You're right. I think I'll go give Bailey a bullet to the head and see if he's still alive afterwards."

Planet Earth, birthplace of the humans, or rather, now, home of the richest, most-spoiled, biggest brats that had ever clawed their way–

She sighed. "What's your problem with the admiral? He already paid us for our troubles." Pause. "And would be more if Sean hadn't insulted him so quickly," she muttered.

"See? Even you agree something here is wrong."

She sighed again, but louder, in frustration. "I agree that our paycheck can be a million more, but that doesn't change the fact that the admiral held up his half of the bargain. Assassinating him for a bit more not only is expensive, but we are just turning ourselves back into criminals again, not to mention the fact that we can just retire now and enjoy what we've earned so far."

"Don't let Jenkins hear you say that," he joked, "the woman is a workaholic."

She laughed then, though he could tell the sound was tense with unhappiness. "Carolyn wouldn't mind an early retirement. We can always invite her to come and live with us. We have more than enough room."

Luxury of being a mercenary. They probably had enough money to buy every single floor of this building, but even they knew where to stop, unlike some of the bigger bosses. They had no need to more space, not after buying the penthouse of five bedrooms with its own nuclear reactor.

"Yeah. She sure wouldn't mind all this order," he said, in mock disgust, "first thing she might do is to figure out how to deconstruct that building over there with minimal effort. And blame it on the construction droids."

For a moment, he spotted a flicker of true joy, but it was gone, too quickly swallowed by the gloom of the situation. "So why the admiral?"

He stared into her eyes, holding her attention in the most serious manner possible. "Because that fucker has fucked with us one too many times already. And what if this isn't a ploy to just get rid of us? What if he wants something from those dead aliens?"

"What are you saying?" Now she's all worried, the pitiful expression darkening the room.

"Oh, I don't know." Suddenly his head hurt too much. He sat down, and with the lack of an available couch, on the ground. "This whole world has been hell on me, ever since that trip to Pluto. I think there's something still in there." Then at her alarmed expression, "No, I'm just speculating, but think, what if? War is never over. Peace is just another excuse to build more weapon for those guys. One day soon Bailey will find something he doesn't like, and blow it to hell with whatever he built out of the alien technology. Could even be us." He sat up. "No, I won't stand for it. I must talk to him."

* * *

"Listen, you kids be good to mommy, alright? When daddy comes back, and I hear that you guys have been behaving, I'll buy you all chocolate ice cream, deal?"

"Deal!" They screamed so happily, yet that he knew he could never leave them. It broke his heart to see them, through a screen, animated, lifeless. He wondered if he could ever ruffle his son's hair or kiss his girl goodnight again.

But none of that showed on his face. "Now– Wait, isn't it past your bedtime?" he asked, feigning surprise. The kids yelped and ran off, leaving their trail of laughter behind. They disappeared around a hallway, and for a second, his heart broke. But he had to be strong if he ever wanted to come home, for he of all people knew the dangers of warfare. So what if Foster knew what it was like to lose a comrade? He knew what it was like to lose a friend, to watch helplessly from safety. There was nothing worse than trapping yourself in your own prison of sorrow and regret.

The children's fleeting backs were replaced by his wife's smiling face, but her eyes were too sad, her happiness tainted. "If– No, when. When you come back, Sean…" she stopped, as if she couldn't find her next words, "When you come back, Sean, life will be complete again."

They only stared into the screen for the next several minutes, lost in the moment. Finally, Maria's eyes broke away from his to see something behind. He knew what was coming, but couldn't force himself to face it. "I love you," was all he said, and she nodded. The connection broke as he killed thoughts of her from his mind. A job was a job. No distractions.

Carolyn leaned against the doorframe, face impassive. He trusted her to keep the promise, and trusted her not to speak of it. She kept her promise, though he wondered deep down if that somehow changed her attitude towards him. The cold woman seemed a lot more open to him, just him, in their own private company.

"Thomas says he will be arriving in the city soon," she said, still expressionless. He was grateful for the distraction, and the lack of pity, for despite his limit to pain and suffering, the one thing he could not stand was pity.

"Yes, I'm ready." Was he truly? He didn't know.

* * *

"Please wait here."

He gave a grunt of acknowledge, the sound strange coming from his distorted vocal enhancements.

Despite all he had seen, in the Void or of the war fleet, he was nonetheless impressed by the intricate architecture, here on Mercury, of all places. While the sun shone overhead in its brightness, the heat did not reach the surface, where strange plant-life and tiny animals roamed freely in the gardens.

Beside him the other sniffed in annoyance, but quieted as he gave a look. The other was not a patient one, more for fights and the bloodlust. It was a wonder they had chosen the other as the second representative. After all, death had no place in negotiations.

"We are their greatest, yet they cast us aside like the exiled."

He shot the other another look, which didn't still the shifting form. "We must be patient. Resentment will get us nowhere."

"Bah! We fought their war for them."

He shook his head. "They will respect us, but not if you must behave so poorly."

The other sniffed again, but remained silent.

Here was one of the bravest and the most loyal of all fighters he had ever seen, reduced to somewhere along the lines of an impatient child, despite the slashes and dents that lined the golden armor, even more so than any of their brethren.

Finally the other spoke again, but it was not filled with grievingly anger. "You reckon we'll win?"

He didn't answer immediately. Too many of them had been claimed already, either by death or by the mind. For a moment, even he wavered.

"The Emperor will see you now."

He rose, and along with him, the other. The golden chamber had never been more magnificent, the pillars never more powerful. He took one last glance at the sky, the endless sea of stars, then the sun, the powerful orb that hung low in the evening sky.

"Yes, we will. Because we can't afford to lose."

* * *

Footman's Arm, that was the name. Located on the floating Metropolitan of New State, Saturn, this little backwater place was neatly tucked into the most vile, most infested part of the underground, where every other man was losing or had already lost his mind and the other half carried a miniature arsenal to defend themselves, and every other woman a prostitute of similar, the rest mercenaries. The air here consisted mostly of toxic pollution, forcing everybody to wearing a featureless mask. The ground here was covered in a slick, slimy liquid that smelled distinctly of oil. It was a place where nobody went for vacation, but for money, and bounty, or just to discuss incriminating matters under the blanket of darkness.

And he walked right into it, easily flowing with its dark tide to the entrance of the pub, where the bouncer glared down at him. He gave the giant man back a steady stare.

"No trouble," the man mumbled, incoherently.

"Don't worry. We're only here to talk to our friends."

The bouncer gave them a suspicious look, but stepped aside to let them pass. However, before they could come by, he heard a light whisper in the air. "Them enforcers just left a few minutes ago. I'd be careful if I were you, pal."

He nodded, but didn't turn to look. "Thanks, mate." And they went into what was probably the darkest, dirtiest, grimmest and most illegal cantina on this side of the planet.

There was few lighting inside, and what little of it was near the bar itself, where outlaws drown cup after cup of strange liquids probably more fit for poisoning a senator. With the bar in the middle, tables were in not-so-neat clusters to the sides of the giant room. A few doors led to private reservations, where conversations and actions were not meant for the public eye. What appeared to be a naked woman in silver body paint readily approached him with a too-bright smile, then scurried away as Jennifer shifted her pistol.

He fought an urge to sigh, instead asking "You see them?"

"If you were actually looking instead of checking out that prostitute, you would have seen them too."

He let himself be tugged away. Why did he have to put up for such an impossible woman? Oh wait, said woman would blow his enemies to dust and love him back without a second thought.

"Foster, about time you got your ass down here. We've been in this slum for the past hour!" Sean didn't look too happy about their place of assembly. He glared at everyone visible, and won every stare with a menacing growl. "Are you sure we couldn't have met in the _Resolution_? This place reeks of scums and cowards."

Jenkins said nothing, but rather motionlessly stared into her lap. The sensor beeped every now and then, sweeping the room back and forth.

"Nice to see you too, Sean."

The big man grunted and returned to a mug of what looked like liquid earthworms.

"Have you been here before?" Jenkins asked innocently. He couldn't decipher the meaning behind the words.

"Yeah. Once or twice. Back when I was special ops."

Then there was silence, and he realized with a jolt that they were waiting for _him_ to speak, that they had chosen him as the leader. Of course, that was assumed when he managed the entire team, but Sean had always complained his opinions to his face, and his orders were ignored mostly for the part. The anxiety was surely mirrored in himself, but they had given him a job, and he wasn't to crumble now, not when they were so close.

"Alright, team. One last job, yes? One last job. Then we can all go home. We're going to fix this mess and get the hell out of here." He paused in his pep talk. Their attention was all upon him, focusing him in the light of the shepherd. There were a few smiles of gratefulness. "Client didn't give too much information, not even his own identity. But that doesn't matter. I think we all know who the target is." A series of nods met his question. "Then there's nothing else to say. Mission details will be in your messages. Good luck on your hunt."

He stood, though oddly the others did not follow suit. Instead, their eyes widened to behind him, where a single click sounded. He turned slowly, to stare into the barrel of a pistol. The other end of the weapon was an old friend.

"Mission details, hmm, Foster? I'd never thought you to be the treason type." Ensign Ford grinned at him from underneath the face of scars.

* * *

"Sir, we have caught them red-handed."

"Oh? Is that so? Have you cuffed them each to a five-hundred-pound metal block yet?"

"Uh, sir, um, I don't think that's necessary–"

"It is necessary! I have pursued them for too long to let them slip through my fingers now! And they are resourceful. Take every security precaution."

"But sir, Ensign Ford has them at gun– Holy–! Take cover!"

"Fools…"

* * *

The blade felt safe in his hands, like home, like the Void, like himself. The fine edge blinked against the ghostly light, like a glitter of the stars. A beautiful weapon, it was more than capable of cutting enemies in half without resistance. The toothed edge was modeled after the claws of an enormous aquatic beast, deadly, invisible until it attacks with lightning speed. Just like him.

The dim blue suddenly wavered. He did not move from his kneeling position, knowing what was to come. He heard their hisses, like wisps of the air. They were hungry. The hunger and the bloodlust.

He looked up. The air distorted for a second, then the blue twisted, and from the vortex stepped out the ghoul, with its too large of a mouth and claws for hands. It stumbled at him, uneven in its steps, horrible, deformed. When it swiped, its claw were deflected away by the quickly slash of the blade. It hesitated for a moment, confused.

A second vortex opened, and from it stepped another blue ghoul, almost transparent in its color. An accurate visual of the infected, he was sure, but lacking in challenge, as with its real counterpart. The first one managed to open its mouth wide open as it was bisected, and the second lost three out of four of its disproportional limbs in quick succession. It stumbled back, eyes, all too human, begged at him, to end its miserable life, to end its time in its corporeal prison. He dashed forward, the blade piercing the broken body. As the ghoul died, its form shuddered, and dissolved, into the blue light.

More began to take form around, though several did not even complete enter this plane as they died, chopped to pieces by the swift cuts that pierced through the air like the ancient order he was meant to be. They rose in waves, to unleash their terrible cries to the world, then dissolve as they disappeared under his dance.

But soon even he would be overwhelmed.

He could feel the increasing number of ghouls that appeared, and soon he couldn't even attack, forced onto a constant cycle of defense and running away. However, more and more bodies simply threw themselves at him, piling onto him as though they could somehow bury him to death. Jagged teeth chewed on his armor while sharpened claws scraped from all directions. They could do no damage, however, as the attacks simply bounced off. In return, his toothed blade diced flesh easily.

Even then it was too much.

With every slash his muscles throbbed. With every step his legs wobbled. While they kept coming, and endless wave. They could no longer appear beside him, as there were already too many bodies there. He no longer sliced with precision, to mercifully kill the targets. It was no longer a waltz of blades, but an ill song of wild arcs, to decapitate as many enemies as possible before he fell.

A claw grabbed his leg. Another latched onto his shoulder. He shook himself, but then a nest of teeth clamped onto his middle, and nails grazed against his face. He leaped into the air, and the ghouls fell off. They all turned to the air, to the figure that hung in the air, its blade poised to strike, despite it seeing its own defeat flash in time.

The world paused.

He dangled, suspended from nothing. The ghouls froze, as though ice, motionless, the hunger in their eyes still visible, though like glass, stopped.

"Good work, warrior." The officer strode into the room, fearless of the frozen beasts that cried silently around her. "Sixty-four, before you lost your form. Better than last time, I must say." Now she was almost below him, craning her neck to see him so high above. "But could still improve, of course," she added quickly, almost as an afterthought.

"Unfreeze me," he demanded.

She tsked, though did as he requested, pressing a button on her regal uniform. "Is that how you speak to your handler?" she asked, as she tapped her foot and waited for him to stand. His muscles protested heavily with every movement, though slowly, he was beginning to rise from the blue floor.

"I don't need a babysitter," he practically snarled back.

"Friend then. Do you believe me your friend?"

She gasped and jumped back a step as his blade pierced the ground between her feet. The sword sunk into the blue-tinted mist of a floor, and shockingly, stayed. He used it as a support as he pulled himself to his full height, towering a head over the officer. "Tessa," he scowled, "you play me a fool with your lovely smiles and pretty facade. I know your true purpose here."

She narrowed her eyes. "My purpose here is to redefine you as a warrior. After what happened last time … I daresay I will be worried for you in the field."

"Do not change the subject! I know their meaning to station you here, and we both know that you are not a qualified physical trainer."

She rolled her eyes. "Very well. Believe what you want. But know this: I will watch over you until the day you return to risk your life at the hands of those dastardly beasts again."

He ripped the sword from the floor, feeling its familiar and comforting weight, and stalked out, feeling the hot stares of her eyes on his back. However, even he could not resist to glance back at her widened eyes as she realized the sword had actually cut into the floor itself, which was composed of a ferrite alloy lined with rubedo reinforcements, making it possibly one of the hardest materials known.

A sigh. "This is Tessa, and I need a repair drone for Training Room 109."

He smiled as he headed for his quarters.

* * *

**A/N**

This entire part should be short, I think, because all it does is build up action. However, I can promise the latter three parts will be a lot more intensive and keep you on the edge of your seats!

For anyone who is totally confused by the amount of events happening: the ones relating to the Orokin are in the PAST, not the PRESENT. Just in case you get carried in circle by time.

Also, any reviews will be welcome, as I am in fact not an active player of Warframe anymore; I just enjoy its lore.


	6. Wicked Rebellion

A little more action building, but since it is substantive enough, it will be named thus

**Chapter 5**

Wicked Rebellion

"Well, how about it, Foster? You coming with me or not?"

The weapon on his head was not once wavering, steady as the training made it. A nasty grin decorated the face of the ensign, some time ago an officer under his command, just a few weeks after the war. But now there was no rank now. He was exiled, a criminal, despite Bailey's promise.

He narrowed his eyes at the thought of the admiral, who must be lounging in his ornate, personal quarters, awaiting his head on a silver platter. What a crude man, yet he couldn't help but admire this treacherous strategy, in that it had indeed caught them off guard.

"What was that? You have nothing to say?"

He ignored the taunt and instead glanced back out of the corner of his eye. A little thumbs up from Jennifer.

"Your pathetic friends won't help you now," Ford sneered, pressing the gun into his forehead, "I can execute you on the spot if I wished."

"Then don't wish."

Ford looked confused for a moment, and that was all the moments he needed. A hand smacked into the wrist holding the pistol, which discharged into the ceiling, then clattered to the ground, as the wrist was twisted.

The ensign gasped in pain, then head-butted him, making him see stars. Soldiers raised their weapons, and were shot down by the hail of fire from the table. A shock grenade was tossed in their midst, and they found themselves twitching as the deadly current swept through their ranks.

"Thomas!" he heard a voice yell. He did not acknowledge its owner as he threw a punch, squarely hitting and dislocating Ford's jaw with a nasty crack, then followed with a elbow to the chest, forcing the man back a step. However, as he tried to advance, a series of bullets grazed his armor, flaring against his shields. The distraction allowed the ensign to return the blows, hitting him back with the force of a rhino.

He blocked a punch, then another, as they rattled his teeth, blew the air from his lungs. Ford showed no signs of fatigue, being that bruiser as he always had been. However, despite the strength, the ensign did not fight with brains. Thomas activated his boosts, and fire erupted from his feet. Instantly he was propelled forward, carrying with him Ford, and smashed them both into the wall, then through the cheap wall, and into the mud outside. The ensign attempted to fight back, but being heavily pressed into the ground could let him little control.

Shots streamed over his head, causing nearby civilians to duck out of the line of fire. As far as he could tell, Jennifer had surrounded the entire area in a heavy fog, then some more, as smoke grenades rolled away. His HUD showed him three forms, outlined in blue, shooting at a crowd of shadows, which was weaving this way and that in its own confusion.

In his distraction, Ford kicked him into the air, and his propellers sent him flying over, to witness an Alliance dropship, which hovered over the area in its vast shadow. The turrets turned to aim at him as he was spotted.

"Jenkins! Head for _Resolution_! Rest of you, help me distract this dropship!"

His weapons had no effect on the ship, except for his mini-rockets, which blew out a turret on its underbelly and blackened the armor around it. However, that only made it madder, as ropes dropped to the ground, and from its insides emerged more soldiers.

"Hostile reinforcements incoming!"

His warning was answered by a rain of bullets shooting up. No more than half of the dropping troops came to the ground alive.

His shield screeched red as something impacted into his lower back, and he was sent forward by the unexpected pressure, letting the dropship cannons narrowly miss him. Turning, he saw that Ford had found himself an assault rifle, and was firing in extremely inaccurate bursts into the air. He returned fire with a pair of pistol, throwing the dust up around the ensign, who ducked away to behind a building.

Another figure, Jenkins, raced away at top speeds on her own propellers. Jennifer was aiming a launcher of sorts, from who knew where, and Sean was standing over her crouching form, holding her rifle in one hand and his shotgun in the other. In the grey mist, not even the Alliance special ops knew where they were heading, and to instead receive a full blast to the face. A rocket sailed into the air and clipped the wing of the dropship as it attempted to dodge. Immediately it began to slope dangerously, the heavy shadow disappearing as the ship fled.

Then his shields died completely. Ford was still shooting in his direction. He returned the favor by nailing the ensign in the chest. Ford jerked as the bullet hit him, and, with a surprised expression on his face, stumbled out of sight, barely clinging onto the rifle, the small trail of blood fading away.

And the sun rose again.

The _Resolution_ swept in, cannons flaming. Half of the pub collapsed in from its barrage, the majority of the Alliance force scattering. Explosions turned the battlefield into a slaughter. He flew up, clutching at his ringing head. His boots carried him to as far as the ship's hanging ladder, then sputtered to smoke as his hand grasped the rail. He pulled himself up with effort, able to collapse onto the deck without too much trouble.

The ship shook, the world blinking as the massive impact shook the hull with its power. He looked into the sky to witness another fireball, arcing through the air, headed for their position. He watched the impact, the beautiful explosion that rocked him to his core. A warning began to beep. In the bridge, Jenkins furiously worked the cannons and redirected energy to riot shields.

"Get them two on!" she screamed, her voice cracking as sweat poured from her hands.

A mounted automatic gun sent more soldiers ducking or dying. He took up a rifle and repelled several grunts who were hoping to get lucky. As he stepped aside to let a flying Sean carry a hanging Jennifer inside, the ship rocked again. The sky was screaming. Fireballs, graceful in their ranges, magnificent against the storm of sand, ever so elegant of the brightness, ran laughing at them.

"Everyone aboard!" he yelled.

"_Don't bother strapping yourself in! Just hang on!_" came the reply.

The floor became a wall, and the bridge the ceiling as the ship flew upwards, going at a speed to slam him against the racks of hazard suits on the far bulk. Dazed, he groaned in pain as another form smashed into him. He realized with a horror that Jennifer was unconscious, blood trickling its flow of life from her mouth. In that tiny river, he almost despaired.

Then the ceiling became the floor, and he screwed his eyes shut as he hung onto the limp form in his arms, using himself as a meat shield from the hard jerks of the ships, as more and more explosions sent them reeling into space. He caught a glance as their own cannons blew apart the monstrous artillery machines, each the size of entire buildings, and the return fire in the form of a storm of meteors.

"_Shields at critical levels. I really hope you guys hang on._"

Another rock.

"_On second thought, no more shields, and outer armor breached. All repairs will be on hold until we are out of immediate danger._"

He closed his eyes again, and pressed his face into the soft cloth that was his only salvation, his anchor to sanity, his chains of reality, praying that he would live to open them again.

* * *

_Sometime later,_

He clenched his fist as he strode down the hall, towards the labs. He almost had them, almost! He was so close that he could feel the big promotion coming his way. Damned Ford and his unreliability.

"Doctor, I trust things are going well?"

He enjoyed the sliver of fear that passed through the doctor, even if the answer was calm as ever, "Yes, admiral. The shipment has been delivered as per your instructions to Heliocentric Station."

"Of course, of course. And these weapons … are they operational?"

The doctor had the good grace to remain emotionless. "Yes. However, even after I copied their machinery piece for piece, the weapons are still more or less useless. But that power cell proved to be more powerful than expected. Not only does it supply energy to the weapon, but also seem to enhance what I originally designed for its potential."

"Interesting. That means we must– Do you hear that?"

For a moment, the doctor looked alarmed. "The scratching? It has been lingering for the past two hours or so. I thought it was my imagination."

He cursed. "There is a listening device in here! I want you to find it and get rid of it!" He stormed from the room, angry that he had been outplayed once again. "Double the guards at Heliocentric Station," he ordered into his radio.

* * *

His footsteps clicked hollowly against the metal floor.

The lights here tinted the gold a dark red. The crimson painted the room a blooded massacre, and with each shadows he cast, it was as though the victims had risen in their ghosts again, back to haunt the world.

It wasn't too far off.

A door slid from his path as he advanced, ignoring the parts of the glowing controls on either side. His goal rested at the end of the long room, where he had been given his latest "gifts" from the emperor. They were more chains than signs of affection, and more for death to the Empire's enemies than for his personal extravagance.

The box, a long, thin rectangular object, sat silently on a table near the end, intricate and beautiful in its gory gleam, as with everything else in the room. A single combination lock was set into the opening, where a blue light beeped and revealed a series of slashes and dashes, prompting him to enter the correct countersign.

Instead his fist dented the box.

* * *

"I see you accepted the letter," noted Tessa, who was idly picking at her fingers while examining him with a shrewd look, "but managed to break the container."

The box fell to the floor with a heavy thud, its ripped exterior bouncing once, like a broken ball. A metal boot put pressure upon it, cracking the empty shell and crunching it into a smear against the white flooring.

"I may serve the Empire, but even the Emperor should caution to threaten me and mine," he snarled into her face, pressing his metal mask almost onto her terrified stare, and stomped out, making sure to kick the broken message capsule to her feet.

No one would control his brethren. They were free, like the stars themselves, and he would made sure their world remained that way.

* * *

"_ETA Heliocentric Station fifteen minutes._"

Suits sealed, their pressures and gadgets checked. Weapons cocked, ammo indication lit bright blue.

"_ETA Heliocentric Station ten minutes_."

Outside, the green construct loomed huge, almost as large as the moon in the view screen. It only grew bigger with each passing second, until the light of the sun was obscured by the monstrous station, until the stars winked out. A cloud of bugs circled the fort, like a mist they were. To approach this close was already risking detection, and the high possibility of being shot into space dust.

"_ETA Heliocentric Station five minutes. Launch pods preparing to fire._"

He blinked some dancing lights out of his vision.

The week past had been hell on them all. Not only was the _Resolution_ barely able to space-travel after taking the bombardment from all those Alliance heavy AA defenses, but out of the four of them, everybody had received a broken bone somewhere or another. Jennifer had taken the worst of the beating, after a damned man had shot a grenade right out of her hand with lucky aim.

He tensed as the metal casing around him shuddered, then lost weight, as the AI of the _Resolution_ withdrew its artificial gravity. Something above his head rumbled, and he seriously hoped Jenkins' idea worked.

No, they had not been absolutely useless in their time of recovery. One of their bugs, little mechanical, remote-control spiders, had found its way into the Alliance high command central by smuggling itself aboard a cargo ship on Saturn. Through their careful exploration they managed to find Doctor Andrew Brown, the head researcher, located on Venus, and his stash of experimental weapons, and, as an added bonus, Admiral Bailey himself. The bug self-detonated after discovery, releasing a bomb powerful enough to blow through an inch of solid metal. Unfortunately, Dr. Brown's precautions managed to stop both him and Bailey from becoming chars of history, but the message was clear enough: Don't mess with us. He'd say it worked, as so far nothing had came after them. The only difference it really made was the doubling of the station orbital fleet, which, of course, was a problem.

"_Launch pods engaged in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Fire._"

He closed his eyes as a great force jerked his entire body, grateful that there was padding above, or else he would possibly find himself a headache before the mission even started. Through a little window, he could see the fleet clouds that enlarged, where little dots became enormous capital ships, and blurs became squadrons of fighters, all to protect a treasure they would take anyways.

The Heliocentric Station was both an architectural and technological wonder. Built just under a three shorts years after the break out of the Colony War, the station, in its circular orbit around planet Earth, played an important role in the defense of the Alliance against the invasions of the colonies. No sooner had the war ended were colonial leaders executed publicly onboard the station. Now, after a decade of Alliance oppression and military rule, the station had been refitted and augmented to a true weapon of war. A colossal railgun was the main feature, capable of carving through a mountain with ease. Countless other outer defenses, such as flak bombs and fusion torpedoes, were mere grass on the face of the giant. Another reason to not blow a head-on assault against the fort.

"Sean," Foster's voice buzzed through the communicator, "the scanners have done their work. A general layout of the station should be appearing on your HUD."

"Got it. Mark targets."

"Done."

"Guys," Jenkins cut in, her voice full of static, "new mission objective: looks like we got ourselves a security grid. Someone needs to go and disable the sector's power sources if we don't want to be fried by lasers or whatever they use for defense nowadays."

"I'll do it," he grumbled. Least he could do for what was coming up. "Just give me an EMP, and mark out a separate route for me. I'll meet you guys by the main goal."

"Roger. Oh, and guys, good luck."

The metal armor came up to meet his feet.

* * *

"Bob, you hear that?"

Something was sizzling. Just a little noise, in the corner of the mind.

"Yeah, Dan. What do you think that is? Something burning?"

"Don't be silly. Metal can't burn!"

They walked forward, only half minding the minute sound.

"Dan, I think something's wrong here."

"Of course something's wrong here! Your brain, that's what!"

"No, seriously. This isn't usual."

"What, you think there's an invasion, that the entire 4th Fleet hadn't even noticed yet?"

"Yes," the voice was a little different.

"Then you must be–"

There was only blood gurgling now. A big man, armored head to toe in black, eyeless behind the visor, enough weapons to arm an entire platoon, held a blooded knife in his hand. He sniffed in distain at the crimson liquid which dripped from his midnight suit, but ultimately decided a little bodily fluids made no difference to his mission.

Through his map he could see a highlight of his target, just another two corridors plus a door ahead. The only trick was: in between the corridors was a soldier barracks, where his thermoscope detected no less than fifty warm bodies in total. If only he could turn invisible.

There was no patrol here, no doubt that the commanders had felt no fool would be stupid enough to try anything. Too bad he was stupid enough to do it, and do it so silently that nobody could notice what happened until he was gone.

A quick sweep of the interior revealed that in fact most of the residents was asleep, happily snoring away at whatever their dreamlands were. The room, therefore, luckily, was dark. The quiet breathing covered his shuffle of feet against the floor, but it was quiet enough that a death, or even a light struggle, was as audible as if the station was bombed by a nuclear warhead.

So instead of walking and sneaking, he turned to the wall, where a shelf of rifles was racked in perfect, neat rows. He planted a tripmine, and climbed over the weapon rack to the blank section farther above. The bareness of the bunk made it extremely easy for this, so to speak. Unfortunately, he was yet to have time to test out what he was about to do. He drew a deep breath to give himself reassurance.

One glove flexed, and placed itself against the wall. The other up a little more. One boot followed, and the other too. After a step, he looked down, and found himself hanging like a spider, five feet above the ground. Before he could give himself vertigo, he swiftly ascended, towards the ceiling, hidden in the darkness. Then he was off, scurrying along the roof as quickly as he could without making a noise.

Occasionally, he would find a few soldiers. They did not look up at his passing, nor was he inclined to bother them. On the other hand, above the dozing ones, he planted remote mines, a curtsy of Jennifer's. They attached to the ceiling without a sound, their suction pads easily gripping onto the rough surface. After his lucky dozen ran out, he settled by dropping trip mines into their equipment, anything to slow them down.

By the end of the darkness, he was quietly wheezing to himself, exhausted with hanging himself upside-down for the past half hour. Noiselessly he dropped to the floor, glad to have left the tense barracks behind. There was some sort of pride that came with knowing to be the best, the best to breaking into an Alliance fort, and fly through like a ghost. Sometimes he wondered if he enjoyed sneaking a little too much.

He looked up from where he landed, right into a pair of wide eyes.

Uh oh.

* * *

"Scanner shows two guards up ahead," whispered Jenkins, "they are leaning against the wall about five feet from the corner."

"I got them," he whispered back, and crawled forward.

The pair lasted not even half a second. After the first fell, the second had enough time to look surprised as the silent bullet ripped through his neck, silencing him before he could yell out. The man died choking on his own blood.

"Alright," Jenkins looked uneasily at the bodies, "Our next stop is a ventilation pipe somewhere above." At her words, three pairs of eyes focused on the metal grate that hung above. A dark wind seemed to be emerging from it.

"But shouldn't we hide the bodies?" Jennifer pointed out, "I mean if somebody walks by, they will surely notice them, and we will lose our stealth."

He shook his head. "No point. Besides, even if we manage to hide the bodies somewhere, the blood will remain."

He walked to under the grate, aware of the wondering stares on his back. The grate wasn't too high, a mere ten feet above the ground. He raised his pistol.

The shots were terribly loud in the quietness, the silencer doing little to stop the echoes that raced away screaming in delight. He cringed slightly, but shot three more times, putting holes into the ceiling around the metal plate. The grate rattled harshly with each impact, until, finally, it jumped an inch to the left. He grinned ridiculously, much to the dismay of his companions.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

He supposed he was still a child at best.

He leaped up, easily catching the edge. The sharp rim cut, even through his armored gloves. Grunting, he pulled himself up to a pipe, to Jenkins' word, though unexpectedly only two feet in height. He was forced to crawl on his stomach, squirming forward inch by inch until his feet no longer dangled in the air. Then he was tasked with pulling the women up, to which he sighed in frustration as he realized he couldn't turn in the narrow space, forcing him to retreat until his hands were where his feet were, and extending an arm down.

"Come on then, ladies. We haven't got all day."

* * *

The boy of a soldier stared in shock at the giant, masked man. It was alright sloppy on his part to not look down as he dropped, but exhaustion had taken its way. Fortunately, the other, more a teen than a man, was so inexperienced in that his gun shook with terror, and his face spoke the volumes of death. A single punch was all it took to knock him out.

Now he was troubled with the problem of what to do with this limp boy. He briefly considered killing him, as that would insure no witnesses, and ergo no alarm. But as he looked at the young face, he could not bring himself to do so. He was reminded of all the innocence of the youth, all the war that he protected his own children from. How desperate must a family to be to send such a young man to the battlefield.

In the end, he dragged the boy with him, through a heavy, metal door with the warning "Caution: Electricity. Authorized Personnel Only" and a little stickman being electrocuted. Not a pleasant fate, he was sure, but he could only smirk at the stupid little sign.

The boy he left lying on the ground. He wasn't going to get up anything soon, not from that concussion he gave him. Safe in the knowledge of virtue, he proceeded, from a metal walkway, and either side of which large, glass cylinders of flashing lightning danced. They casted hungry shadows as he passed.

From his back he withdrew a metal box. According to Jenkins, this was a disruptor EMP. In other words, it fed off of the energy it silenced, and used which to produce an even bigger blast. So theoretically, it could potentially shut down the entire station if they were lucky. If not, the best he could hope for was making just this single sector go dark. However, if it failed to work…

_Oh, hell with it_, he thought, as he stuck the EMP onto a glass cylinder, counted the timer, and ran like the Devil's dogs.

* * *

The last soldier fell dead, a smoking hole burned into his forehead, his mouth in a silence scream of pain, his eyes frozen in death. A pitifully small security was at the gate of the armory. Perhaps they were relying on the big, metal door that stood in the way, along with its fifty different buttons and the twenty-digit key code plus a retinal and fingerprint scanner.

"See something you can crack?" he said to Jenkins jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

"This door is sealed up tight. I can't get any readings from it yet, but when we are past, I should be able to trace the alien technology based on what information I have acquired in the time we were on Pluto."

Only Jennifer showed a worried glance to the left and right. "Do you think Sean got lost? Or worse…"

The light flickered out on cue. Suddenly darkness enveloped everything, from the unmoving forms of the dead men to the oversized vault door. The emergency lights, crimson in their brilliance, shone like the dying sunset, casting the world in blood.

"–Captured?" Speak of the Devil. Sean grinned as he approached the trio, a heavy machine gun slung over one shoulder. "You guys should really try to believe in me a little. The least I'm good at is bashing people's heads in."

Seeing his friend, even in this strange lighting, let him out a breath he had been unconsciously holding. This place was getting to all of them, no doubt. Instead, he only grinned back.

"Glad you made it. Now, I think it's time we can finally get through this door?" He raised an eyebrow at Jenkins, who was frowning at the door in her way. "So how about it?"

A smirk met his question. "Without power, this thing is no more than a chunk of metal. We should be able to get through pretty quickly."

Pretty quickly took them the better part of a fifteen minutes, during which footsteps could be heard in the distance, and frustrated yells of system engineers who couldn't figure out what went wrong with the perfect system.

Finally, after the brightness of the blow torch lit up the door, the heated metal practically swam away, incapable of even standing on its own after the intense temperature. They slipped inside them, making sure the leave a tripmine by the entrance, just in case of the smallest possibility that somebody came by unexpected.

Following Jenkins' navigator, the group traversed rows and rows of assault rifles, energy beams, rocket launchers, anti-material explosives, even something as absurd as gas guns. Jennifer slipped into her pocket a string of what was labeled as "Automatic Grenades." Sean snatched off a sword of a kind. Neither he nor Jenkins took anything, continuing grimly ahead.

Past the rows of tanks and ATVs, the jets and bombers, columns of infantry gear, was their destination. It was, interestingly, locked. The problem was solved as Sean tested his new sword, an energy blade, which seared through the cheap lock without resistance.

There were large crates, which opened to reveal strangely shaped weapons in foam blocks. They resembled nothing of the golden themes of the aliens, yet held a surreal element to them all the same. He gingerly took one in his hands, feeling the heavy weight. The thing was at least a hundred pounds, making it extremely awkward to wield, let alone fire.

"What do you think this does?"

Too bad they had no time to test it out. A red glare lit the entire compound with flashing forms. Their shadows wavered uncertainly under the harsh light. The accommodating noise was no better, in its screeching scream. The alarm was on; they had been discovered.

Abruptly Sean snatched a device out of his pockets, and pressed the single button on its surface. Following was a series of booms that shook the very ground they stood on. As everybody recovered from the unexpected movement, even Jennifer looked at him with admiration.

"What did you just blow up?"

"Hopefully the entire barracks near this place. And probably a floor or two above it."

He felt another crazy grin coming, but swallowed it down with seriousness. "That should buy us a little more time, but we cannot carry all of these at once…" It was a shame, too. These weapons looked so interesting.

"Just take one then," Jenkins offered, "We only need one to study it. The rest we can burn."

And they did exactly that. He shouldered the heavy thing from the room, not listening to the clicks as bombs were being wired to ensure maximum damage. His goal was ahead, a transport frigate that could easily house their team of four plus the weapon, and possibly a tank too. The transport lit up as he opened its ramp and stepped inside. _Too bad they didn't think to lock all these sweet rides._

Another explosion sounded, far away, the sound echoing inward. The tripmine at the vault must have detonated, which meant they were close. He waved the three figures onward to the ship he had claimed, shoving them onto the ramp and to the cabin. With that he and Jenkins were in the pilot seats, hands flying over the familiar Alliance controls as the ship hummed in response to their touch.

"Trashing this place in 3…"

The ship lifted from the ground, its propellers groaning after its time of disuse.

"2…"

They followed the tunnel carved out, which led forward, towards the vault door.

"1…"

Soldiers dived for cover as the transport burst over their heads. An underside cannon flashed, shredding through armor and flesh with ease.

A fireball was behind them, lighting up everything in its way. The ship pushed harder, onward to escape the inferno that consumed all. The vault door exploded as the forward cannons blasted it from its place, the wreckage behind smoking. No one had the time to shoot as they raced through the hanger bay and into the darkness of space. The 4th Fleet could only sit and watch, caught completely unprepared for an attack from the inside. The fighters responded first, but it was already too late. They were out of the planet's gravity well, the space around them distorting as the hyperdrive activated. Then they were gone, leaving the Alliance commanders to scream their heads off in anger.

* * *

**A/N**

This chapter is just meant to set up the story. Sorry if it feels tedious. Trust me, writing it was tedious too. However, I can promise you that after Part II, there will be a lot more action and blood. So just hang on, guys!


	7. Where the Demon Resides

**Chapter 6**

Where the Demon Resides

* * *

'Tis a rocky world.

Or not really a world at all, rather, an empty sector of space, filled with floating rocks that ranged from something as small as the dust that was bane to all machinery to chunks larger than the ships that raced through their cracks at leisure.

The Asteroid Belt, it was called, since the time of the earliest explorations made by mankind. Here are asteroids, they said, and let's build something here, they decided. So in between the floating asteroids, cities contained within spheres of life that endlessly drifted amongst each other, rather like some sort of a strange organism under the oceans. On the larger bodies, the dwarf planet of Ceres, the Alliance had constructed its own outpost and its own civilian housing. Charity was its official purpose, but everybody knew that the cheap residence came with another cost: that at least one member of the household was required to enlist in the military.

"We should totally blow this place up," muttered Jennifer, staring out the front viewscreen with eyes full of memories. He had never thought to question her past, not in the military, especially not now. From what she had so far revealed, it was a dark place. He wondered if perhaps the planet of Ceres was right in the middle of it.

"Davis, if you blow up everything you see, the rest of us won't have anything to do. We like killing things just as much as you do," grinned Sean, one leg comfortably rested on the back of Jenkins' chair. He sipped from his mug, and almost spat the steaming liquid out. "And as much as I enjoy bashing people's heads in, I prefer my coffee warm, not lava hot."

"Make your own coffee then," retorted Jenkins, her eyes never leaving the viewscreen.

Outside, the sun's radiant lights were distant, offering no warmth, rather acting more as a glare of the blackness of space. Ahead, Ceres loomed amongst its smaller cousins, a landmass of grey that was all the universe had to offer in this dead piece of space. So close, the planet almost looked like an off-color version of Saturn's belt, but then the view shifted, and the asteroids stretched onward, in an endless sea of barren rocks.

Silence fell amongst them, daunting and anticipating. They had been waiting for at least several hours now, for something even remotely interesting to happen. A rumor, from a supportive senator, or rather, a coerced senator, revealed the location of the 3rd Fleet, and a hint of its possible mission and destination. But so far, there was nothing.

"I'm tired of waiting," complained Sean, disrupting the calm, "if nothing shows within an hour, then Morris will be sorry he–"

"Look!" exclaimed Jenkins, excitedly rising just slightly from her seat, which, made to lean to the user's comfort, fell back with Sean's feet, causing him to almost spill the coffee onto himself.

Several ships, with clear blue and red Alliance markings, rose from the surface. It wasn't a particularly numerous party, consisting only of a cruiser with its escorts. They seemed to hover uncertainly at low orbit, pausing to collect themselves, then ascended upward, to a storm of war.

The stars were gone, replaced by an infinite sea of blue and red. Capital ships floated in their own solar systems, surrounded en mass by cruisers and frigates, escorted by fighters and bombers and a tempest of other ships. At the center was the 3rd Fleet Command Ship, its presence simply overwhelming, catching the immediate attention of any observer.

"Looks like we found our ride, alright."

* * *

"Retreat! We must hold the bridge!" the commander shouted, the desperate voice barely audible above the screams of the dying and the shouts of the fighting. Blasts of energy flew both way, each shot enough to incinerate armor and flesh with ease. They did not have this technology only a month ago; the speed of this impossible evolution had amazed even the brainiest scientists.

He was perched near the ceiling, the shadows high above concealing his golden form from the watching eyes. From here was the entire entrance bay visible, including the last few survivors of the ship, and the ocean of faceless invaders. The automatic defenses were of no use either; despite their numbers, their weaponry simply had no place since their creation. They served more as meat shields than soldiers.

It was a sad scene, the once-proud Orokin running for their lives from mere beasts and twisted animals. Of course, the creatures were smart and high volatile in their fighting. Alas, all the technology could do nothing. The moment a weapon was used, a copy of it would appear on the opposite side, ready to return the damage by twice, thrice. It was a lost war from the start.

He saw enough. Drawing a blade and a sidearm, he leaped down, down and down towards the center of the fighting fifty yards below. Nobody saw him coming. His descent ended with his blade first, the impact shocking and knocking the ring of fighters to the ground. Then he was a blur, an avatar of war, the blade a spirit of vengeance, searing through the knarred bodies with precision. Their weapons were useless against his speed as he raced through their ranks, causing maximum chaos and death in his wake.

On the other side, the survivors had gathered their wits enough to return fire, mowing down whatever pieces he left alive. The automatic sentries advanced, pushing against the incoming tide. The situation had changed.

A pulse rifle fired a large cone of purple energy, in hopes that he would be knocked to the air. He had remembered the first time the weapon was deployed by the Orokin. It had caused devastating damage to the aliens. But as ever, their technology turned against them, rising to punish the Orokin for their own inventions. As the pulse reached him, he extended a hand, and sucked the energy from the air. The aliens stared in shock, and were subsequently decimated by entire ranks.

Soon it was no longer a battle, but a slaughter. The pistol's bullets, channeled with the mystical energy, ripped through the aliens to hit their comrades behind. The blade, glowing with power, burned all it touched. When he dashed forward with a spin, everything even remotely close was severed in half. When he leaped high into the air and slammed down, the mystical energy shattered those too slow. Within the hour the aliens were retreating, unable to face death. Fear twisted their faces, and terror distorted their movements. When the battle ended, bodies lay about, in a mass of a graveyard. Beyond the bay, the stars winked as the alien ship retreated from the pounding of the cruiser, each blast of energy shredding the disfigured carapace. They had won.

From battlefield to silence, like a poem, the climax to its denouement, to heat to its peace. The last bit of the aliens scrambled away, to flee their last, losing battle. So then was victory, and it had never tasted more bitter.

Footsteps approached from behind him, where he stood at the door of the bay, gazing out the energy field. They dared not come close, he noticed.

"Tenno," the commander exhaled, a mix of awe and fear within the tone, "I assumed you were still … asleep." He knew why.

"Captain," he kept his voice even, though despite, the vocal enhancer forced his broken throat to work the words, "This ship is belongs to the Tenno. Any damage it suffers shall be of my business, even if I need to wake from a cryopod to witness it." He turned to face the man. "You should have woken me to dispel the invasion."

The commander's face was hidden under a ivory visor, making his face impossible to see. However, through his stiff body language, he was told that this slaughter was something the commander had hoped to avoid. "Ah, of course. But orders were you were to keep in your cryopod until arrival."

"Orders have change," he stated flatly, the broken voice now harsh, "I am your commander now. I will issue you your new assignments as soon as you have delivered me to my target."

He ignored the blanched man as he stepped from the massacre. There was no doubt his new orders would conflict with the wishes of high command, but it wasn't as if he cared about what high command thought of him. The General would, no doubt, support him, as, after all, this ship belonged, with every right, to Sister, who was missing in action, and, therefore, his charge until he could locate her beacon. The thought made him slightly angry, but he controlled himself as he stalked to the communications office. Time to have a chat with high command.

* * *

"Destination: Pluto. We have arrived."

Once again the grey planet was within the viewscreen, all in its lifelessness and vapid mountains. Nothing had changed for the past time, except for its orbit of tiny satellites. A quick scan revealed each dot to be a ship. More specifically, an Alliance ship.

"That's the entire 3rd Fleet, alright. Guess we were right after all," muttered Jenkins as she worked the ship to slowly approach, hovering just outside the range of those standard military radars. "And looks like landing parties have been sent out. In the approximate location of … the alien bunker."

At this Sean threw his hands into the air. "Why can't everything just be simple? Why can't they be just interested in the formation of those mountains?"

"Our only possible course is to, of course, sneak past the orbiting fleet," Jenkins continued, ignoring the interruption, "And the only way to do this is to use a system cloak and a reflective cloak. The first one is guaranteed to make us invisible to their radars, but the second only works if we don't come to close and be physically spotted by the cleaning crew or whatever."

Silence met her explanation.

"So," piped Jennifer, attempting to light the mood, "who wants to pay those aliens another visit?"

* * *

There was quietness.

He liked the quietness. It reminded him of training, a past that was almost buried under the blood and gore. Those were the good, old days, to exercise with the freedom of the mind and without the crushing responsibilities. His favorite had been to meditate, that for hours to an end. It was peaceful, and quiet, and certainly calming. Then was the world in balance.

Now there was only raging warfare within his mind, its chaos threatening to overthrow his conscience with its stormy tides. Replays of death, of the enemies, of his brethren, of himself, of his world, of everything. Killing was only another action, slaughter another chore. Bodies of the dead were no more than flesh, the graveyards no more than the past.

"Sir," a nervous voice interrupted, "We are approaching the system."

"Excellent. I will oversee our entry to the fleet."

"Of course, sir."

Now, where was he? Damned be that interruption. A premature snap to reality was least helpful to his mood.

Slowly he rose, each movement precise and elegant. Meditation was another exercise, that of the mind. It was important, if not necessary, to keep a mind calm before a battle, or else there would only be wild hacks and brawls, not art and perfection.

The pool around him was still, a reflection of the peace. The water in the golden puddle echoed his armored, faceless mask back to him. There, a glint of his former self, or what he could remember of his former self, and it was gone, gone to be claimed by the past. He sighed. It was a terrible burden, that to serve as a weapon, his mind was eroding away.

The bridge was unnaturally quiet as he silently walked in, unusual due to the amount of people who would no sooner talk their heads off, and his too, if he was to listen, though he suspected he himself was a part of the reason why. The other part was displayed on one of the egg screens, the bright radiance of blue that illuminated the entire room. It was very unlike their home, of its comforting orange. This was a cold place, where the hot light was a miserable ocean, mirrored in the several planets inhibiting the system. On the side screens displayed every single habitable planet or planet with modified environment to support life. One was layered in a writhing mass of black and red, another in giant mushrooms of green and glass. The several in between displayed the conflicts between the infestation and the aliens, where they had arrived to stir things up.

"Sir, the beacon has been located within the second planet, specifically a hundred kilometers north of the equator."

"Well done," he congratulated the navigations officer without tone, "I shall require one scout fighter. In the mean time, this battleship will be under the command of Xenon Control Platform." The giant ball of white and gold was currently sitting in the midst of one of their other fleets, in a heated dispute against the Sentients.

They had saluted him as he strode out, unwavering against the qualms, yet he did not respond. There was only one goal now. To the beacon, to the sister, to the fallen, to the lost.

_I am coming_, he projected into the Void. No response came back.

* * *

The cliffs were the same as their last encounter, save for the several landing ships near the entrance. No guards were posted out, which was both a relief and a mistake. It meant they did not need to fight their way in, instead able to simply infiltrate. However, it proved too much of an appeal to not place trackers onto the undersides of the ships, and park the _Resolution_ instead a tad hundred yards away.

The cave pressed onto them as they entered, though no one stopped this time to stare at the obsidian walls that suffocated the life from their cramped forms, nor was anyone tempted to remove their helmets to breath the toxic air again. The front door had been forcefully opened to allow multiple persons to walk in abreast.

Inside was decorated with the same golden ornaments, with the additions of a dozen dead bodies plus almost twice as much robotic corpses. The mangling of the still made it a test of endurance to stop and check the bodies. Blackened marks dotted the floor and walls, like some sort of sick graffiti. Thomas noted the remains of one particularly large robot was gone. Perhaps these alien automatons were capable of cleanup work.

"Bailey is here," announced Jenkins, "See these marks?" She pointed to several robotic carcasses, "This armor is destroyed by plasma weapons, and the only Alliance soldiers that use plasma weaponry are Peacemakers. And the only officer that actively employs Peacemakers is Admiral Bailey."

Greene clenched a fist, "Wait 'till I rip that fucker a new one," to which Jennifer gasped and slapped him on the arm.

Thomas only shrugged, "Easier for all of us then, if he is already here. Then we don't have to go looking for him elsewhere."

They continued onward, past more mangled corpses, of either side alike. At one point a soldier called out to them, barely hanging onto life with a hole in his gut. Thomas put him out of his misery with a bullet. "Mercy," he explained when others stared.

Unfortunately for them, they had only gotten past the entrance hall as they were spotted. A small patrol of alien footmen spotted them and opened fire, raining onto them rays of energy that scorched the walls. They returned fire, their own bullets hitting with much more precision, and ripped through the weak metal plating with ease.

"Let's try to not make a lot of noise," commented Sean. Nobody thought to disagree.

After another patrol of robots and another injured Alliance soldier, they found the main party. Admiral Bailey was present, along with several dozen men plus a full squad of Peacemakers. They main opponent consisted of a massive spider-like creature that hung upside-down on the ceiling and fired mortar shells into their ranks, and the waves of alien automated defense that pressured forward to be reduced into scrap metal.

"Anyone else up for a nuke right now?"

* * *

The infestation stood no chance against him, nor the Imperial army at his heels. Grunts and humanoid creatures stumbled from their concealments to rush at him, either in hopes of crushing him under their weight or to somehow cut through his shields with their razor claws. But as he simply hit them out of the way, they could do little but be shredded by his rifle.

Ahead the passageway became narrow. He found himself the feeling of being squished by the surrounding walls of dirt as he passed through. Infected masses continued to delay him, by wrapping around his limbs with their rotted roots, or by forming a wall of brown branches. He cut them down like weeds.

The army had a harder time passing through. Infected crawled from the dirt to lunge at them. Though most of the time flamethrowers simply burned down whatever that was moving, a few opportunities allowed the monsters of the darkness to drag their victims into the dirt with them, to be assimilated to the growing Hivemind.

"Tenno! We are almost there!" the commander shouted, chipping away an Ancient with his rifle.

He nodded back. It explained the high concentration of infected within the area, especially the older ones, simply referred to as Ancients, due to the fact that this entire classification was rarely seen, therefore rarely documented, and varied enough in shape that nobody was bother to create a new order for each type of these Ancients.

What was currently standing in front of him was a tree trunk, except for shriveled and decayed, and a poisonous cloud was leaking from where its head was supposed to be. He bisected it with his sword, then grimaced in pain as the toxic clouds completely bypassed his shields to burn away at his lungs.

Some of these creatures were very offensive in their visuals, sometimes taking on the form of those who had died to contribute to its form. Humanly heads were grown in odd places, their screams silently frozen in time. It was a disturbing image.

"The target should be just ahead! We'll hold these creatures back until we can't!"

His lip twitched at the thought of the sacrifice the commander was willing to make. It was truly a thing of bravery. Had it been the High Command, they would have left him to die. Just like the others.

That was a dangerous thought. He looked back, to see soldiers, _his _soldiers, slaughter the infested with unwavering courage. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

Tangled roots blocked his path. They offered little resistance as he cut through them, casting the shriveling plants to the ground.

Past the narrow ways was a giant arena of sorts, a circular area surrounded by dirt walls that piled as high as fifteen meters. Here the stars were bright, as the blue sunset illuminated the world in a cold tint. Here the sky smiled down on him, a lone warrior to be presented with the ultimate test.

Sitting in the middle, and taking up nearly half the space, was a pillar of a tree, old, ancient, dying. No greeneries were present on its wrinkled branches, or liveliness on its knarred bark. It towered into the air, high above the surrounding. He had the strangest feeling that something sat at the top.

A root snaked towards him, not even bothering to disguise itself. He watched it close the distance, leaving behind a trail of pillaged dirt. Upon nearing five meters, it stopped. He watched with fascination as the root grew a bud, which quickly inflated to a misshapen blob, then took solid form. The colors were wrong, green where red hair was supposed to be, dark orbs of eyes, pale chalk for skin. Nonetheless, he recognized it immediately.

"This cannot be!" he exclaimed, taking a step back. A wound opened somewhere, deep in his mind.

"But it can. We defy death itself." The figure extended an arm, pretty like the flowers, delicate like the stars, "When you join us, you can too, love."

He stood, dumbfolded. The woman was perfect, smooth skin like a seductress of the Emperor's, but more beautiful, more lively, more enchanting. Gone were the scarred skin and a scorched eye, the shredded throat and the seared lips.

"Come with me," the smiled turned inviting, "come with me, and we can be together again."

"But…"

"No buts," she smiled, sweetly, "there is only yes here."

And the most terrible thing was, for a second, he almost raised his own arm to touch those glass fingers. Until he looked into those emerald eyes, and saw the anger and hunger hidden behind the smile, the trap behind the sweets.

"You are dead," he stated flatly.

"Dead? Hardly," she refuted, "I am very much alive, and even more than when we were sent off to war."

"No," he denied, more to himself than the projection in front of him, "You may think yourself alive, but you are nothing but a memory. A memory twisted by the Hivemind."

The entire arena shuddered, as though angry. However, it calmed again when she spoke. "Isn't that all we are, a collection of our memories?"

"A collection of memories," he echoed. "Very funny. You are a collection of the millions who has suffered death at your hands." He could see the unease within her now. He had broken through. "You are the siren who tricks travelers to their death, then feast upon their flesh and their mind. A child yet you still are."

The smile was gone, replaced by an ugly anger. The arm extending dropped, disappointed. He felt relief wash over him. The voice, ancient and terrible it now was, demanded, "Why have you come, creator?"

"To end you. You are a plague upon this universe, a mistake of us. We are here to fix our faults."

The black eyes glowed. "We have fought them for you."

"Not for us," he shot back, "for yourself, so that you can accumulate knowledge and flesh, like a demanding infant."

"How dare you accuse us–?!"

"I cannot let you continue." He drew his blade and let its metal shine with the dying rays of the sun. "It is my duty to slay the enemies of the Empire, and I will comply."

For a moment, the black eyes calmed, in the center of its storm. The figure frowned at him. "Your duties are the chains that shackled us to the Empire. You said that yourself."

"I have indeed. But what are we without our duties? Weapons without the hands to fire them. Shells with no purpose in our lives."

"But…" it stammered, trying to think, yet incapable. He could practically see the memories patch together, like a intricate puzzle, to form words.

"You had a dream once, didn't you? That we, just the two of us, could go back to the old earth and be alone? No weapons, no war, no Empire."

"Y–"

"That dream, it can come true. Our brothers and sisters have plans, to free ourselves when we return. If the aliens ever had a purpose, it is to show us the truth."

"I–"

"Imagine then. Freedom. Unlimited freedom, in all forms. What else can you wish for?" He paused, waiting for the trembling figure to speak. It didn't, for a long while.

"I–" Tears, black, murky tears, rolled down the porcelain face, dropping onto the dirt ground, dissolving into the air on impact. "I– I'm so sorry."

"Vera," he whispered, his voice soft, gentle, even, despite his damaged throat. Her eyes closed, the tears dropping. For a moment, just that moment, he had brought her to life again, to life, to her, the real her.

Then she was gone. "You are an interesting one," noted the brass voice that came from her throat. The figure was once again a puppet, stiff in its movements, rigid in its form.

He glared at it. "Do you mind? She and I were having a moment."

The figure all but snarled back. "To speak to her is to speak to us all. We are one. We are the Hivemind. The Hivemind is each and every one of us. We are undivided, united, one."

"And I will speak to her alone."

"You cannot–!" the figure's words were cut off by a scream. It grabbed its face with its hands, the nails now sharp and elongated, like claws. The tree bristled as though winds blew through its dead branches, the ground shook from countless minor quakes.

"You forget, Infestation, that she was one of us first." He spoke towering over the falling figure and its screeches. "We are unbreakable, for we are the Tenno. You cannot dominate us through your weak will."

"We will–" The hiss was cut off by another ear-splitting scream as the figure thrashed upon its rooted feet. The claws dug into the beautiful skin, shredding its pale perfection to reveal roots inside.

"You are nothing more than evolved plants, sick and twisted as you are. You are a plague to all life in your endless desire to consume and assimilate. Your rotten core is no match for the truest minds." He raised the sword high above his head, glaring down at the cowering figure. "I will be your judge, and I find you guilty."

"No! Stop!" The figure raised a pathetic arm, as though it could stop the blade. "Stop! Please. Silence her! Let us be peace."

He chuckled evilly. "I cannot silence the dead. If it is her wish to torment you so, then I can do nothing to stop her."

"Please. Let us be peace! We shall make a deal. Let us be peace, and we shall not spread. Please."

He considered it for a moment. In the mean time, the figure convulsed with jerky movements, as though the puppeteers were fighting over the control of the puppet, while the tree violently shook, trying to loosen itself of its flesh.

"It is a deal."

With an anguish scream, the figure melted into the ground. The tree stilled, as did the ground. He returned the blade to his back, to its comforting reassurance.

"And let us be peace."

He walked away then, to the commander, who stared wide-eyed at him, and the surviving soldiers, who slowly lowered their weapons against the vanished enemies. The sunset was brighter than ever in its fading light, then it was gone, to place the planet back into its quiet night.

"It is done. We shall leave for the Origin System within one hour."

"But sir, what about your mission to find the fallen?"

He shook his head. "It's no use. They can only live on in our memories now."

* * *

"Fall back in line and give these machines a piece of yourself!" screamed the admiral as his men fell under the assault of the spider. Rockets flew to blast apart the golden phalanx with colorful explosions and bullets ripped through the robotic armor to taste the circuits underneath. The spider let off two more shots, each detonating with a bright glare, until the Peacemakers turned their cannons onto it, and remotely dissembled it into burnt metal.

"Now's our chance," Thomas whispered, drawing his pistols. The rest of them took up rifles.

The mess inside had yet to resolve itself. The spider was gone, letting the soldiers much more relief and therefore more pressure against the automated army. However, in their sheer number, the robots had yet to be pushed back too far, impressively holding their own ground with the masses.

"Let's go."

The Alliance was in for a surprise as their members fell, dead from shots behind. They turned, far too late, as the gas grenade landed in their midst, clouding up the room in a dense fog. Even the robots stopped for a bare second, confused. In this time, they had rushed past the blind men to the center of Alliance formation, where Admiral Bailey waited for them, in his hand a strange weapon.

He stopped short, recognizing the weapon immediately. The plasma grenade launcher was one of the later models, designed after the Civil War primarily for the reason that the rebels constructed better armor with the mining resources in the outer planets. Rumor had it this weapon could possibly blow an entire hover to orbit.

Bailey smiled nastily. "Don't even try, Foster. You can't kill me faster than I can pull the trigger on this thing. So, like my new toy? I call it," he paused dramatically, "the Punisher! Now kids, see, this is what happens when you misbehave." He swung it around maniacally.

"I suppose you got all this all thought out, huh?"

The admiral raised an eyebrow. "Actually, yes I do. Killing you is just one more line I can now scratch off my to-do list. I'm sure you all saw those fancy alien tech my teams managed to scavenge. So the next thing is … let's see … ah, I know! Control the Senate and the entire system."

Stares met his declaration.

"What, you think me a fool? Well, guess what? The fool has you in his traps. Who do you think hired you to assassinate me? I just needed an excuse to kill you off the radar."

Sean looked like he wanted to say something, but held his mouth when Jennifer elbowed him in the stomach.

"Wise choice, young lady." Jennifer looked like she was about to explode. "So, last words?"

"Fuck you," from Jenkins.

"Bastard," from Sean.

"I have a live grenade in my hand," from Jennifer.

"Time to go," from him.

Bailey was thrown back by the explosion of the grenade, as did the two Peacekeepers by his side, and all four of them. The admiral rolled to his feet, not joking anymore. He gestured angrily at the Peacekeepers. "Kill those fools!"

He ducked as the cannon bolts sizzled over his head to explode against the far wall. The crackling of rifles announced that the others were doing well to distract the brutes from returning fire. However, they wouldn't last long enough. If there was one thing the Peacekeepers were known for, it was that they were more or less mobile tanks.

Bailey had disappeared. "Get out of here!" he shouted, waving his arm the way they came while popping a shot into the Peacekeepers' eyes. Another smoke grenade later, they were on the run of their lives. The Peacekeepers made their presence known with the constant barrage of energy bolts that flew their way.

_Long Live the Orokin_ looked back at them as they raced through the empty halls. The heavy footsteps didn't cease, nor the fire. _Evolution_ was the door that opened to let them through, and _Superior Might_ led them down the stairs.

They stumbled into a huge room of pillars. A single walkway through the middle connected this doorway to the next. Around was a pool. The shallow water danced with light.

"We've been here before," he noted, lost in thought.

"Congratulations. Now let's get out of here before we're toast," answer Sean with a hand to push him forward. He was barely able to keep moving, the visions of the beast dancing in and out of his eyes.

Then they were following the familiar route, past a cross corridor and a crystalline tree, which almost appeared milky in the soft light. Shouts joined their ears now. It sounded as if the entire Alliance scouting party was on their tail. His shields beeped as bullets bounced off his back.

"We can't keep running forever!" shouted Jenkins as she ducked under another blast.

It was then they reached the forked corridor. From one end projected light and freedom, the other cold and darkness. _The Demons Will Be Our Salvation_.

"Maybe we don't have to."

* * *

So beautiful, the high arches that reared into the sky, the towering monument to the end of the war, the sacred temple for the plague. Magnificent, the statues of war, the golden beasts, the motionless nightmare. Enchanting, the stars in the glass overhead, the sun and its size dominating the entire east corner.

"Hail to the Tenno! Long live the Orokin!"

The chant boomed in the world, carrying with it the strength of the numerous and the will of the gods. Through it the ground shook with power, and the temple glowed with strength.

"Hail to the Tenno! Love live the Orokin!"

He only observed the world outside, where once a desolate, rocky plain now lay the massive courtyard of the Empire. The sun loomed zealously overhead, its strong light nonexistent from the shield put into place, an enormous fireball in the sky.

"Hail to the Tenno! Love live the Orokin!"

The chanting never waned in its strength, nor intensity. The people gathered in the courtyard, thousands, so many that many did not fit and instead attended the event on the many lifts that floated overhead. Though he was sure they could not see him, he couldn't help but feel the sense of being trapped. Trapped by the emotions, trapped by the crowd.

A hand touched his shoulder.

"Do not fear them. Our time is almost here."

He turned to find Sister, ever so mysterious in her words, yet somehow making sense at the same time.

"I do not fear them," he replied, dodging the implicit question.

She gave him a strange look, though, much to his relief, did not pursue his thoughts. "Very well," she said.

A knocking on the door turned both their heads around. An Imperial Guardian, cloaked in a flowing robe of gold and white, gestured the three of them. "You are expected now." And departed in a flurry of glowing cloth.

"I've waited a long time for this," growled the third, standing up from where he sat with almost predatory movements.

"Patience, Brother," chided Sister, an arm to stop the warrior from stomping forward. "We have all the time now. Do not fail by your eagerness."

Brother visibly collected himself. "Yes, of course. I will proceed with more caution."

He had had enough, and walked forward, leaving the other two to follow him behind. The Guardian led them forward, past corridors decorated with saintly ornaments, past secreted boxes, in which collected the allies. The robots were certainly patient; after all, it was in their circuits.

The door of the throne room, more of a throne chamber, was large enough to fit a small frigate in with no problem. Fashioned like the old ages, this door was entirely material, and swung open on physical hinges to let through the glory of the Empire.

_We are close. Do not betray our intentions. Remember: we are all at stake._

_I will not_, he replied to the whisper in his mind. Sister nodded in satisfaction.

They stepped into a glowing circle on the floor that lit up as their feet touched the panel underneath. The nervousness of the Guardians within the chamber was a tangible thread, smelling so sweet of fear, as was the pride of the Emperor, glowing with a fatherly love.

_Now_.

In a flash, he was leaping forward, his sword appearing from his hand in a glow of purple energy. Time froze as he zipped through the air, a blur of metal. As the blade struck down, the body was simply turned to ash by the Void energy that channeled down the length of the edge. From where the weapon connected, the entire area was blasted apart, smoking from the power unleashed.

Time unfroze.

Brother roared and punched the nearest Guardian, denting the glorious helmet. As the first crumple to the ground, the others screamed as a storm of shrapnel cut thousands of tiny scars through the armor, into the flesh. From their corpses rose a beast, its metal hide glowing in darkness. It charged, knocking people out of the way with ease.

And the Guardians finally responded, but they were too late.

Brother extended a hand, to which Sister boosted off of into the air. A vortex of power surrounded her for a bare second, then the explosion came.

Everything changed then.

* * *

"Hurry!" someone yelled. The ground at their feet exploded. The Peacekeepers were gaining.

As the door behind them closed, Sean slashed through the metal with his sword. The weapon must have hit something, because the lights on the door suddenly turned an ugly red. It attempted to open, but lodge, leaving only the barest of cracks. The Peacekeepers attempted to fire through the crack, though missed, and soon they were out of sight.

"This way!" Thomas pointed.

They followed the cold, which was strengthening along their passage. _The Orokin Will Not Be Forgotten_, proclaimed a series of scribbles on the floor.

Jenkins gasped. "That's it!"

Which, to the others, was nonsense. "What's it?"

"Orokin! That's what it was, or rather, who they were. They called themselves the Orokin!"

"Great," commented Sean, on the other side of the room. The door they came through just disabled itself in a shower of sparks. "Now if you will excuse the rest of us, we will be running away while you contemplate the history of these 'Orokin.'"

The excitement of the discovery dulled a little, and they continued on with the same huffing breaths.

At the end of a long tunnel, and after another inoperative door, was something else they had never seen before. In the center of the huge room was a strange machinery of some sorts, quarterly symmetrical with the exception of a small control panel in the middle. The parts looked like shells, like eggs, if said eggs were stretched lengthwise beyond what was possible, slightly flattened at one end and placed vertically onto a rack. The surface appeared to be glass reinforced with a golden frame.

"What is this?"

Curiosity got better of his fear as he walked forward, almost in a dream. As his hand touched the glass, he realized that the cold was in fact coming from the very machine itself. The inside of the glass was most definitely frosted, even! However, strangely, it was empty.

_What could this be for,_ he wondered to himself, examining the patterns on the golden frames.

"Hey! Come and take a look at this." Then, now there was something interesting.

A humanoid … thing, for the lack of a better word, lay as though standing in the glass. A thin layer of frost had accumulated on the gold and white armor. The thing looked vaguely male, with board shoulders and muscled arm, despite its entire form being encased in armor. On the helmet was the most intriguing pattern of all: a golden ring where its face was supposed to be, no eyes or other features, instead a horn of sorts, jutting out of its face like a rhino. Seeing it, he couldn't help but admire the beauty of the craftsmanship that had gone into the armor.

Something heavy pounded on the doorway.

* * *

"Activate cryopod A," he commanded, walking into the chamber with purpose. The death of the Orokin was more eventful than any of them had anticipated. Soon, apocalypse would be upon them. They needed a place to hide, to sleep, through the impending storm.

The cryopod opened with a hiss of cold air. He climbed aboard, fitting his arms into the custom coffin of ice.

"Engage cryopod A."

"_Confirmation code required_," stated the machine voice. How sick was he of hearing the same machine voice. The company he sought were all gone now, asleep in their corner of the Void, awaiting his signal to wake. However, now it looked like that he, too, would have to sleep. There was no escaping the storm.

"Override."

The machine paused for a second, processing his command. "_Access granted. Engaging cryopod A_." It was fit, after all. It was his ship now, a gift from the fallen.

The glass lid closed in onto his face. Then he was sealed from the outside world. A cold mist blew itself onto him.

"_Engaging sleep serum._"

He jerked as a needle stabbed into his neck, but soon, there was no more struggling or panic. An invisible weight became heavier and heavier, until he could barely keep his eyes open.

Perhaps he, on some small level, did regret it all.

* * *

"What do we do?"

The door was dented inwards from the Peacekeepers' brutal strikes. A deathly helmet was now visible on the other side. "Surrender," it called, "and you will be promised a quick death."

Instead of replying, he looked once again at the alien. "Sean," he said, grabbing the attention of the big man, "help me with this."

"What?" the other exclaimed, "are you crazy?"

"Probably," he admitted. "But if this works, we all get to live."

"If it doesn't?"

"Then we die anyways. Come on. I need you to stab this thing."

Sean looked hesitant, the sword wavering in his grip. Another bang sounded as the door dented further.

"Just do it, Sean!" Jennifer yelled, a worried glance at the door. Despite the explosives wired to its corners, the Peacekeepers would most likely slaughter them.

Sean flinched, and the sword penetrated the glass like paper. Immediately, the machine beeped dangerous. An intense light came into being at the center of the machine. When he shielded his eyes, he felt a heat blast hot enough to roast turkey pass through him, throwing him to the ground. As the light faded, he peered through his fingers, and found that the shell had shattered. The alien was on all fours, unnaturally silent.

The door broke, the explosives going off at the same time. The Peacekeepers staggered back from the blast. The sound caused the alien to looked up. It stood, facing the bewildered Peacekeepers, who readied their weapons more out of fear than ferocity. The alien snarled.

* * *

"He is awake. I can feel his mind."

"Good," grumbled the other. "Now we won't have to go all the way back."

The first hissed. "This is not good. Since he is awake on his own, it meant something or someone has found him, and since he is still alive, it meant the other thing is probably dead."

"So what?"

_Death might be your land, but even it does not help you any!_, the thought a thunder. Spoken out loud, "If he follows his original instructions, then he will wake the General, and our plans will be put back decades! If not more."

_The dead will always be mine._ A sigh. "We can do nothing now. We will never make it back in time, not since the infested had broken our ships. I fear we may be stranded here for a long time."

"Not quite. I am sure we can find something useful around. And then, if necessary, we will build our own portal into the Void."

"Very well, Sister, but somehow I feel this will become complicated sooner than later."

"Agreed."

* * *

**A/N**

I know that the jumping back and forth is confusing, but just bear with me. This is the final setup for the last 3 parts, which are full of action.

Please post any reviews! :D I welcome all criticisms and/or compliments!


	8. Separate Contact

**PART III – Rise of the Orokin**

_The prophet had foretold of our return. However, I do not trust these visions weaved from the Void. We must fight to secure our future, and to rebuild our Empire._

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Separate Contact

* * *

A dreamless land of darkness. Where was here? It certainly wasn't the Void. There were even more things in the Void than here. But where was he?

A hiss and a blast of cold. Then an explosion of glass. What was going on?

Color slowly filtered into his senses, bringing with it a brightness so intense he consciously tried to tighten his eyes, which only resulted in a flare of pain as his suit stung his eyelids.

Shouts, foreign words, panicked yells. Where was he? An array of colors assaulted him, even as the armor shut out all but the dimmest lights. He tried to raise an arm to shield himself from the brilliance, but found his arm couldn't move. When he tried to walk forward, his leg, too, had been locked into place. Something had pinned him against a wall, most likely one of those scorpion proxies. Deployed in the later parts of the war, they were particularly nasty works.

However, then he felt his entire weigh shift forward as wall fell away. Gravity took over, and he was staring at the ground, and its ivory perfect decorated in little pieces of glass. His legs complained as his nerves caught up to the fall. Something wasn't right; why was he on an imperial ship?

A distant explosion made him look up, to see smoke where the door was supposed to be, and a tall humanoid as it stepped through the smoke, its front armor, a bizarre paint of blue and red, charred from the blast. It resembled awfully like the heavy gunner guard, the heavy backbone of the robotic army. As it stepped through the ruined door, which looked like it had taken a beating from inside and out, its invisible gaze locked onto him. He felt its mixture of hostility and confusion, then bewilderment and shock. Its gun raised, an energy cannon of sorts, as far as he could tell. A second one emerged from the dense blanket.

He snarled as the second cannon pointed to his face, but couldn't find the strength the stand. The suit seemed to understand, and within a second, needles pierced his skin at a dozen spots, artificial adrenaline pumping into his system so fast he almost blacked out. The strange alien began to charge its weapon.

The Void responded to his call, granting him its mystical energy. Suddenly he dashed forward, so quickly the energy blast from the alien only scorched the floor where he was. Hard armor met his tackle, though he more felt the bones cracking under the strange suit than heard it. The alien was afraid, trying to stumble backward. He felt alive again, powerful as his teeth sunk into the prey, drinking the fear.

Something hot blasted his shield, the impact making him take a step back. The second alien's weapon smoked as it watch him curiously. However, when he didn't fall, rather take another step forward, it backed away, clearly expecting nothing to survive its strange weaponry. Arrogance was what killed. The first was attempting to crawl away, though not much farther as his foot stomped into its back, audibly breaking what he assumed to be the spine. It stopped struggling. The other aliens, four more of them, began a stumbling retreat. He felt the malicious grin on his face, though of course they couldn't see it.

The second tried to once again fire, but he was already in front of it, slapping its weapon to the side and grabbing its neck. It attempted to kick him, instead making itself more off-balance as he dragged it and threw it back. It slid a good ten meters and slammed its head into the collapsed door. As it lay dazed, he casually picked up the weapon it dropped. He counted that it was able to take two shots before shuddering and dying.

The other three was gone by this point, but it didn't matter. He could catch them just as easily as they could run, for he knew the ship better than anyone alive, including his own brethren. He knew every twist and turn, every secret passageway, every air duct, every exit.

However, despite all his control, despite all his power, as he climbed vertically up a wall to access the more secret tunnels, even he didn't notice the shadows that hid behind the remaining cryopods. The four figures didn't dare breath until even the quiet sounds departed.

"It's gone," whispered Jenkins as she pulled the probe head back. A silent sigh of relief exhaled.

"We need to get out of here fast," Thomas murmured as he emerged from behind the massive machinery. There were no arguments as they rushed from the broken room, to escape this prison with its demon.

* * *

He noted the scattered automatons on the ground, dead circuits and dead metal. The intruder had done a thorough job in destroying the mechanized defense. However, they had barely scratched the surface. As he passed over a console, he silently dropped to the floor. The computer demanded a passcode, which he overrode, and then all sections were on high alert. The tocsin blared a screeching cry, the cry to silence the trespassers. Satisfied, he continued on his parallel course to take down the aliens.

* * *

Gary, his name was, or rather, what they told him was. He had never bothered to question it, for he had no way to rename himself, and it would be most likely seen as an act of treason, anyway, which would offer him to the gallows. But now that he was holding such an elite position in the military that he would never question again. It would mean risking everything he had worked so hard to crawl through, to lose the countless jeopardizes he forced himself through. So he didn't refute the order to capture the treacherous mercenaries, even when the main mission had already been delayed by several hours by the unexpected presence of a battalion of robots.

But now, he wondered if perhaps that he should have ran away while he had the chance. When the war was over, more than half the original army had dispersed to the cruelty they had never imagined from the human race, but he hadn't, because the admiral himself had offered a high position within his command.

The robot stepped in front of him, trying to stop his progress. He punched it in the face, his specialized armor powerful enough to dent the metal head. He tossed the poor excuse of scrap metal to the side, ignoring its continued struggle despite its smashed head. Beside him, his two remaining teammates blasted through the masses of golden forms. But it was beginning to look like more and more of a hopeless situation. There were simply too many. Cut off from the main group, they had no help, whether from the other Peacekeepers, or the rest of the party.

A taller one unleashed its gun in a hailstorm of fire. He felt his armor being pelted by the countless shots, even after most of them had gone wide. His return fire was simply absorbed by its strange, blue shields. Someone tossed a grenade, and the robot fell back a step as the explosive blasted off one of its arms. It still tried to shoot, but then his weapon ripped through the robot.

Together, the three of them pushed past another door. There should be another room until they were reconnected to the main group. He could hear the hopefulness in his teammates' cries of battle. He could feel the safety as his weapon swept another robot to the side. He could see their freedom and survival from this golden hell.

In the room ahead was a balcony. He shouldered past a grunt, throwing it roughly to the ground. He just needed enough strength to push past this last bit, then they would be safe from that demon. The admiral had enough firepower to take down whatever that thing was. He stepped into the room, his gun loaded to fire. And he despaired.

The alien stood on the balcony, looking down at him with its empty face. There was no sympathy there, only a blankness of death, coming to claim the three souls that had escaped it before. Life was gone now. He heard the gasp of the two behind. The alien leaped down the fifteen feet high balcony, landing easily. As far as he could see, it still had the cannon it stole from James' dead body.

There was no denying fate now. He roared in the direction of the alien. His weapon discharged as he ran forward, intent on smashing the alien to death. After all, there was no point to dying like a coward. His last sight was the alien block his punch, then a foot kicked his knee so hard that it bent backward. Then came the eternal bliss, that he knew was lucky to receive from all those who had entered.

* * *

He left the smoking bodies of the three strangers on the floor. It was pointless to cremate them, or to do anything else. He would figure out what to do with the dead later. But now, the more important issue was the sound of heavy gun fire coming from next door, where he could assume the other aliens had taken a defensive position against the suddenly overwhelming tide of robotic defense.

Leading the charge was a giant one, two and a half meters tall, easy dominating the whole battle. It wielded a massive launcher, which unleashed a storm of fireballs towards the enemy position. Meanwhile, the sentinels, which resembled rather odd pieces of flying metal, hovered in the air, bombarding at something with bolts of blue energy. They ignored him as he pushed his way to the front of the battle, where rains of shots flew from both sides. As several heavy projectiles knocked him back a step, he raised his hand and unleashed a bright flare of light.

Immediately the robots ceased fire, as did the aliens, who were staring in amazement. He stood on top of the dead arson robot, grabbing a rifle from a nearby automaton, and surveyed the battlefield. Black marks decorated the walls on both sides, and the body armor too. Death was abound in its conquest, swallowing up entire legions in its hunger.

"Trespassers!" he roared, using the Void to project his voice beyond the room, echoing far, far away. "Your presence is a dear offense to us! If you wish to live through this day, I command you to put down your weapons!" He looked around, looking for the weakest link, the one who unarmed first. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to understand, and each and every one of them stood still, staring.

"Then death will be your salvation," he spat. This elicited a response, though he suspected it was more to the weapon he pointed their way. Behind him, his own army snapped to attention.

He didn't know who fired first, but suddenly the battle was on again. The answering barrage of projectiles was no match for his, where the mystical energy channeled into the weapon allowed it to burn away flesh and armor where the bullets hit. In the pandemonium, the enemy formation broke. Then it was only a slaughter, as he danced through their ranks, each no more than a ragdoll for him to knock down others. The world flashed, and suddenly he was back, the Sentients threatening his home again, the imperial army powerful again, the aliens countless again.

Life was simple then, just war and death. If only now.

* * *

This place was strangely dark, the only illumination coming from a distant light, mesmerizing and bright. From where the light didn't land was a shape, the armored alien. Now he could see the resemblance between the demon and it, both encased in a metal suit of white and gold, both of the unnatural sequence of whatever that happened so long ago, both of a place long gone.

"Stay with us here. We can help you," it implored, in its beautiful voice. An extended hand beckoned him to come forward, but he shook his head.

Blink.

Then he was back in the alien ship, running for his life. Beside him, Jennifer grunted as her foot caught an unexpected step. He barely managed to catch her.

Blink.

"You cannot leave. I must ensure my plan goes through."

Blink.

The robots fell as his weapon smashed through their power cells, exploding into brilliant flares of blue energy. The taller gunner attempted to hit him as he raced past, but he ducked under its wild blow and continued forward.

Blink.

"Do you think you can outrun us? We were the greatest empire in all of this galaxy. We will not be denied."

He continued running, charging through the smoky form. It dissipated upon contact, and he kept stumbling.

Blink.

They were close. Jenkins picked up her pace, not even bothering to point out the direction to them anymore. His highlight on his map indicated that they were exactly one level above the ground chamber, from where they would go through another lengthy corridor, and then it would be the entrance chamber.

"_No, I am too close to lose now. You will stay_!"

The voice jolted him in his step. The power behind the mental command almost caused him to stop and stay. But he managed to shake off the silky feeling and continue forward. There, the stairs down. He almost ran for it, until he realized both Jenkins and Sean had stopped in front of him, and that Jennifer was grabbing his arm to stop.

Facing them was an army. Half a dozen grunts gestured menacingly at them while their complements, the two gunners, approached them slowly. In the air was a massive thing, like an ivory calabash, except for the blue lights that clustered on its center, and the golden rings that outlined its form. Hovering in the air around it, suspended by blue energy fields, were strange pieces of wing-like attachments. A spider, the size of a man, cluttered on the ceiling, its cannon glowing a bright blue.

"Shit."

* * *

Blood. So much blood. This fight was different, different like the last day, different with the crimson tide. A sea of blood, the sticky substance coating his armor. His watched as his hand made a claw, a murderer's form. Disgusted, he threw it down, striding out of the slaughterhouse. Behind him, the droids had already gone to work, to remove the bloody stains from the walls, to remove all the evidence of an intrusion, to return this place to its golden gleam without contamination.

The realization had brushed by his bloodlust, but now he could see that they were in fact human. Human, a legacy of the Imperial terraforming of Earth, no doubt. For each head he snapped from its neck, the eyes stared back in terror. For each body he snapped in half, the cracking of the bone echoed loudly despite the battle.

"Fire up the ship," he ordered to an idle robot nearby, "We are leaving."

The computer took a moment to process his command. "_This is an unwise course of action. We will risk bringing the intruders along with us._"

"The intruders are dead," he snarled, frustrated at the bad programming of whatever artificial intelligence the ship possessed. "Activate main engines."

"_Access denied by Covert Protocol 17._"

He was taken back. Never once had the ship denied him an outright command. Perhaps he needed to rephrase it? "Define Covert Protocol 17."

"_All intruders must be eliminated in order for ship to make Void jump or leave planet surface._"

The words finally sunk in. "Where are they?" he snarled into the robot's face, which did not flinch under his intimidation.

"_The intruders are last tracked to entrance bay alpha of west–_"

He didn't wait for the robot to finish, but rushed out, determined in his stride. Humans or not, these persistent pests would leave him alone quickly. Or else.

* * *

He ducked as several lasers pinned onto his direction. Fortunately, the column he had made himself scarce behind was as solid as a mountain, deflecting the three beams and the blistering fire of the gunners.

"Someone get a grenade! I'm pinned!" he yelled, to no one in particular, though hoping the other three somewhere around the room had heard. Luckily, someone had, and within two seconds, an explosion shifted the heavy firepower from his hiding spot to elsewhere. "Thanks!"

It was very annoying and unhelpful that the weapons on their enemies had in fact been fused to the robotic arms, making them impossible to remove. However, out of the two Peacekeepers the Demon had slaughtered in the freeze room, only one had his weapon removed, and therefore left them with an extra plasma cannon.

Said cannon had just blown up one of the wings on the flying droid.

Before the gunners could turn and eliminate the newest threat, he pointed the cannon at their backs. The first flew off its feet and landed with a hole in its chest. While it twitched and sparked on the ground, the second lost its head by rifle, and its weapon arm. Then it only stood awkwardly, until the spider was shot off the ceiling and smashed it in the fall.

The hovering drone burning a blackened streak at his feet with one of its lasers. He rolled and ducked behind another column, just in time to avoid a second scorch, which tore through the golden metal plating on the walls like paper. He had no doubts that a single hit could potentially severe him in half and microwave his brains out.

A series of mini-rockets popped into the air, trailing their own tails of smoke. They crashed into the drone, shattering its other wing, effectively shutting off the second laser, and causing it to stagger in midair. His cannon shredded it afterwards.

"Let's get out of here before any more of these show up!"

He nodded his head as he raced through the now open room. The only grunt to stand in his way was blown to the side by a flash of red energy. As the hail of energy poured over his head, he was already gone, swinging around a corner, right on Jennifer's heels, to the open doors ahead. Outside, the storm of Pluto still raged its dusty winds. The several Alliance transports had already lifted away, no doubt Bailey was onboard one of them.

They rushed through the cave as the entire ceiling shook. Loose stones rained on their heads, pouring into the wind outside. The ground trembled an invisible strain. The gale howled.

Then they were away, out of the closing cave. A short sigh of relief was exhaled, then the leave of the tenseness. The stars smiled upon their freedom, winking in the night. The sun was instead sad, a distant light that warned them. The wind was no calmer, screaming its dire power to blow them away. A single footstep claimed their liberty.

"Fievig demeontipit em."

* * *

"Death claims us all."

They had thought themselves escaped the grand machine. How silly. Their pointless tumbling in the wind served no purpose other than for him to spot them easier; they heavy equipment and weaponry were no more useful than for him to catch them faster.

He stood, a figure of strength, of death, in their way, between their disoriented position and their strange ship. Through the visors he could see faces, eyes, wide, open, scared, determined. So willful to live, so quick to die.

It was worth a debate to their demise. It would be murder to kill such defenseless targets. He had never considered himself a murderer, although the slaughter was questionable. Yes, a killer, a monster, the Demon, the Beast. Not a murderer. But he certainly would deserve that title, since the fall…

A string of impacts forced him a step back.

The bigger male had with him a rifle, and was firing in quick, deadly bursts. It took him half a second to determine them more lethal than the others. If they were elite troopers. But their armor didn't match.

He ducked under the next several shots and attempted to close the distance, having no weapons of his own. However, one of the women, the one with a series of strange devices around her belt and sling, tossed a glowing orb at him. He batted it out of the way, not letting the potential weapon touch him. However, even as his hand came into contact, the orb exploded, in waves of magnetic radiation, stealing with it his access to the Void.

He automatically bounded sideways, only to receive another round of impacts against his shields. His armor was holding up rather well, no thanks to his corroded expertise. As the next round came in rapid succession, he leaped high into the air, dodging another glowing orb, plus two rounds from the second woman, and landed behind their ranks.

Immediately the smaller man reacted, blasting him full in the chest with the plasma launcher. His shield screamed as the energy was absorbed, and he returned the favor by backhanding the man, sending him flying away. For this he received several projectiles in his back.

He turned and jabbed at the woman with the grenades, but only succeeded in pushing her to her bottom as she reacted faster than he expected. At this point the second woman had abandoned all efforts to control her accuracy. He watched his energy deplete with a ludicrous speed.

The Void responded to his touch once again, as the effects of the radiation wore off. In a flash, he was there, swiping the weapon from the woman's hands. The bigger man was also close, dropping the weapon and instead drawing a sword. He narrowed his eyes as he could.

The blade swung, missed, and swung again, with a trained dexterity. However, even a trained human was no match, as he kicked the sword from the man's hand and punched forward, sending the man sliding against the unyielding, rocky ground.

Then the first man was back, the cannon once again flaring. He simply dodged, each bolt of plasma flying harmlessly by. The speed he had brought onto himself was enough to blur his form as he moved, rapidly forcing the other to engage in melee combat. Then something unexpected happened.

A searing pain cleaved into his midsection, gnawing upon his flesh to consume its need. The fire burned, in an inferno of its own, in a vortex of agony. It was a long dead pain, the inner pain. Too many times had he been battered in the mind that he had grown a skull thick enough to contain the distress, and too many times had he been sloshed here and there like a vial of bodily fluids in his armor that his systems had grown hardened veins to shelter the ache, but then came the intrusion, and he found himself dying.

He almost crumbled as the blade shone red in the terrible wind, the wind that slew the crimson liquid to itself, to carry with it to the other ends. He could feel his armor working overdrive to inject medicine into his body. As the sword extracted, a foam quickly took its place, to prevent further blood loss. He clung to the Void, to its powers, and prayed for the strength. It answered.

A sudden surge of energy spun him around to smash the grip of the wielder. The woman grunted in pain, then sunk to her knees as his kick caught her calf. Then the sword was in his hands, an alien design, but powerful no less. It glowed with the mystical energy in his hands. He was once again the executioner, to decide the fate of many, the many that he had already slaughtered.

A yell distracted him from his task. The blade was descending, towards its helpless prey, who could only stare to her right with amazement and horror. The smaller man dived into, hitting the woman out of the way.

And he looked into orbs of blackness and chaos, eyes of ancient power and strength. The blade stopped, just above the worn helmet. The man's eyes were no longer his own, instead someone else's. The mystic energy swirled around the poor man, capturing his will with its own. The length of the power left in itself a thin string of connection, to a place of nowhere, to a forgotten world.

He could not kill now, not when fate itself had intervened. Instead, he snarled into the too-peaceful face of the man, angry that he had been denied, of his own doubtful action.

"You are foolish to mediate, Sister!"

And he was gone, disappearing into the Void as he ripped apart the very fabric of the known universe, slipping past the laws of physics. The anger urged him onward of his mission, the regret and hesitancy gone, replaced by his pride again. The sword remained by his side. It would serve as a provisional proxy until he could find a suitable replacement.

* * *

**A/N**

Calabash: a green, round (sometimes snaky) fruit that consists of two spheres connected top and bottom. (If you want to know exactly what it looks like, google it.)


	9. Dominance

**Chapter 8**

Dominance

"We thought we had lived through the apocalypse, for the Demon had disappeared within a flash of blue. And that was our first mistake."

* * *

The entire ship groaned as the rocks chaining it to this bleak world broke into dead shards, to join the surface in its motionlessness. The air stirred angrily as it was disturbed, then the torrent screamed, screamed to die. The dust that had long settled upon this world were blown away, like puppets in the wind, to collect elsewhere. The stones that had gathered to cover the ship in a shell of grey cracked, then fell, revealing the destroyer in its full glory.

Through the viewscreen he watched as the smaller ship fled away, hastily retreating from the heavy shadow cast by his massive ship. He had half a thought to blast it to pieces, to be left alone in the barrenness, and the pain came again, a fair testimony to his mortality, a reminder that he in fact wasn't the God he had been worshipped as. It soured his mood, and he retaliated by launching a burst of energy, not at the ship, but at the ground in front of it. The land the explosion threw up covered the entire area in fine, chalky mist. In the least it had stopped his temptation, though he was far from satisfied with the turn of events.

"_Hello, Operator. Your return has been expected._"

He paid it no mind. "Good. Activate all drivers."

"_All thrusters will be fully powered in approximately … 47 seconds._"

They had lifted out of the atmosphere now, passing the glacial clouds made of dusty gases and into the skies beyond, to where he could see a fleet had assembled itself to welcome his return. Their red and blue markings rearranged themselves into a strange formation, a constantly-weaving web that could net even a single fighter. Too bad he had no intentions of sneaking past.

At his thought, the flank cannons unloaded a series of flare shots, designed to blind all senses of the enemy. As the fleet continued its shifting mass, they could do nothing as he simply turned the other way, towards where the net was relatively weak. The single cruiser in his way shuddered as a pair of torpedoes shattered its starboard defenses, along with the entire right side, which sparked as its internal systems melted.

"_All thrusters online. Initiating jump in 3… 2… 1…_"

The vacuum in front of him distorted as the ship's specialized thrusters boosted it through normal space, to what dimensions that lay beyond. He felt the Void's energy embrace him, lighting up the empty bridge in a translucent light, to chase away that shadows that had plagued this battleship for so long. Then the flash of blue disappeared, leaving him with an universe of chaos.

* * *

The salvo of noises which came from the startled crew was comparable to a thousand machines on the Mercury mines. It did not wane as he entered, nor when he angrily demanded the communications officer to contact the _Board Fin_, which seemed to have its entire starboard hull ripped open and replaced its insides with a darkness that occasionally sparked to illuminate the broken machinery. When the only response was static, his mood worsened.

"Send scout parties to the ship. I want to see if anything had survived." A few of the crew nodded and scrambled off.

In all honesty he had no expectations that anybody lived after the destruction. Sure, the ship automatically sealed off decompressed cabins, but the blast had more or less taken apart the side hull all at once, and based on what knowledge he had of the cruisers, he'd say it had most likely blown the main and secondary generators, which meant that no cabins would be sealed off, which guaranteed death of everyone aboard if they had been too slow to put on those bulky space suits, which wasn't likely in all cases.

"Sir," reported the nervous navigations officer, "the alien ship just disappeared. We can't trace its trails at all."

"Then don't!" he snapped back, making the younger man flinch, "ready the fleet to return to Earth. We need to make sure those blasted mercenaries don't decide to come back and finish off what they started."

* * *

A dead fleet was waiting for him.

Like the others of these strange humans, the hulls were a décor of red and blue, patterned oddly in sharp angles. The numerous ships floated endlessly, their defenses broken, weapons useless. He counted at least two dozen of the larger ships, whole or in pieces, over several hundred medium-sized ones, and a huge ship, massive in size, almost rivaling his own. They were in no ordered formation, just pointlessly drifting to nowhere, yet remaining still all the same. The defenses had done a good job.

"_Operator, the ships' signatures match the hostiles encountered on Outpost Dust._"

He ignored it.

Ahead, past the rain of motionless pawns, lay his goal. The Void Tower Avalon, the might of the Imperial Armada, once an impenetrable fortress that had held against the incoming onslaught on the rim of the Sol System for so long, now hidden away in the Void, to preserve this treasure, this monument to their victory. The enormous station appeared to peaceful, that its guns were hidden away, its weaponry stashed under its tough hide. Appearance was at best deceiving; what remained of the human fleet was its work.

"_Operator, Tower Avalon has requested a password._"

"My authority bypasses all security."

A pause as the AI processed the command and response. "_You now have access to Tower Avalon._"

"Good. Dock at whatever available bay."

The station grew closer, and with its proximity, its size larger, until the viewscreen was completely dominated by the structure. As the docking bay opened to invite him into the belly, a green glow lit up his ship. Swarms of repair drones dived onto his hull like infestation, smoothing the centuries of sleep that had taken its toll. A thud announced that he had been successfully anchored, then the hiss as cabin was connected to the main station.

"_Welcome home, Operator._"

* * *

"The ship is secure. We should be able to make it back to the Origin System within … fifty hours."

"Fifty hours is too long. They will already have destroyed everything in their paths then."

"Hardly. You underestimate the resistance they are currently struggling against. From what I've sensed, our dear Brother has only so far managed to gain access to a Void Tower. At this rate, they will barely have time to assemble an army before we arrive."

"Then I pray to the old Emperors that you are right."

* * *

The ever-bright lights greeted him with gold as he stepped through the corridor. The elevator hummed gently as he ascended to the top of the Tower, to the control room. Doors easily slipped from his path as he strode past. It was a wonder that this piece of machinery had survived for so long, even in the Void.

From where the intersection split left and right, the words "Control Panel" printed on a metal plate pointed at the right, he turned left, following "Cryo Chamber." Beyond another hall was a locked door, a rather rare sight. It slipped aside at his gesture, to reveal further the cryo chamber. It was tall and cylindrical in shape, where he entered at the bottom. Four cryopods, elevated high above the ground, hung on rails evenly distributed around the perimeter of the room. Within the center was the control console.

He didn't bother with the console. "Deactivate all cryopods."

Silently the pods slid down their respective rails, to come to a slippery stop at the bottom. Within the fogged glass were figures, figures of the gods, the undying warriors of the Empire, the betrayers in the dark. He waited patiently as each pod checked and rechecked its unfreezing protocol, then as they popped open to let their dues stumble out, each step a babe's, each move of ghosts.

"Welcome back to life, old friends," he greeted, even as no response came to his words.

The biggest of the four recovered first, leaning heavily against the pod from which he emerged. "Brother. You have woken us. Is the Armageddon over?"

"Yes."

"Then today should be celebrated," noted the only female, staring emptily at him, "The return of the Tenno. The Emperor–"

"–Is dead," interrupted the other, a strangely shaped one, blanketed by lines of razor spikes, "And we are his legacy. If you say the Armageddon is really over, then we shall take back what's ours."

He found that he couldn't immediately reply. Perhaps it was something that in the strange tone, or in those greedy words. Perhaps he shouldn't have woken them. Perhaps they had made a mistake first…

"Yes," was all he said. Then, "But there is a problem: in our absence, a new civilization has taken strength," was added almost as an afterthought.

"New civilization?" questioned the other. In the old times, he was known simply as the General, for he was the general of the Imperial Might, the commander to defeat the shifting enemy. Even now, after the thousand years, the aura of authority was still present.

"Humans. Not the Empire, I can assure you" to calm the storm. "Their power is only nominal compared to ours. Their technology is eons behind."

"Good," the General grumbled, "Then we should have no problem."

He only watched helpless as the conqueror strode from the cryo chamber, the deadly armor booming with every step. It was a certain mistake, he realized now, that he, the first of them all, had made, from the anger and frustration, from the unquestioning loyalty, which he had disavowed so long ago. Peace was a lie where war itself was alive, and to confront death would be to embrace darkness. If only he could go back just twenty seconds, and remedy the emotions that had strung him high from the Void.

The other three looked at him wordlessly before following the General. He found he couldn't meet where their eyes would have been, for the warriors they were, the deceiver he was.

* * *

He was pleased with the situation about.

No sooner was the apocalypse over were ships of these humans, flying right into their hands. The Avalon had proven itself again, destroying the invaders without so much as a scratch. From what he could see, what remained of the fleet were empty hulls, aimlessly coasting away.

"What happened here?" he asked, for no reason other than curiosity.

Oh, how he hated the sounds of these machines. "_This fleet had stumbled upon one of our Void gates in the Gemini sector and unintentionally activated it. They did not follow our security protocols, and were subsequently destroyed for safety measures._"

"Oh, really." Several looked to have been bombarded by torpedoes, while others seemed to have been blown apart by energy. "Have they attempted to communicate before they are fired upon?"

"_Negative. The message they sent did not match with any known languages._"

"Have you looked into their systems for translations?"

"_After their destruction, their central processing cores have been evacuated and studied upon._"

"And…?"

"_The core did not match any known models._"

He almost dented the control board right there. "I meant for translational purposes."

A series of beeps processed the question, although he was unsure why it took so long. "_Their language is too unlike to successfully translate. Their concepts differ too much to be converted to High Orokin. The closest match found is Imperial Common._"

"And what did it say?"

"_Unknown._"

Sometimes he wished he would have kept the Imperials for company. At least real people had a better sense of humor. "Send repair bots and builders. I want that fleet remotely operational again as soon as possible!"

* * *

"_All systems normal. Engaging Void drive._"

His single corvette was in no sizable comparison to the cruisers he was escorting. What had once been red and blue hulls were now etched with gold in odd places, like glue that held together the ships. A decently powerful fleet, now augmented with the power of the Void, was strong enough that the General had hoped it could serve as a demolisher to weaken this civilization before the Orokin fleet was sent in to finish the job. The thought was a uncomforting one, though he did not voice any opinions on the matter.

His current ward was the flagship of this ragtag flotilla. The word _Dominance_ had been painted onto the surviving armor. The original hull was left alone by the drones, under orders, as a psychological facet to this short war. Once again he voiced nothing to it, though he wondered if perhaps he should have.

The strange patterns in the distance sharpened and stretched, until their shapes were distorted to be swirled into circles around the portal. His ship was the first to fly through, followed by the rest of the fleet, into the black maw, to reality, a place in the distance now. Gravity took his limbs and sloshed their insides back and around again. His armor was barely able to contain his shaking hands. The force of the wormhole opened was so great that his head slammed back into his seat as his entire ship, instead of steadily flying in, was sucked through the rip as though something heavy whacked its back to fling it through.

And the sun came into view.

It was a magnificent sight, that star he had called Home so long ago. The same star he had sworn to protect, the same star to which he offered his prayers, the same star he on which he spilled the sacred blood.

Now its orange glare painted onto his ship a dim color of despair, shaming him for the foolish infidelity, that in which ended all power to give rise to the chaotic plague which swept through the system. Deadly was the apocalypse, but gone it was now. Still he sensed the lingering pestilence, secreting just below the surface of a peaceful universe, to born turmoil again. The space was too empty, despite the looming planet, Dust. Where once should have been the Guardian stations was now empty, devoid of the familiar golden gleam, gone of the Empire's last chance.

"_Operator, you seem distressed._"

Only then had he noticed that his hands were gripping the armrests with unnatural strength, slowly caving in the steel construct. He forced his tenseness to relax, that there was a chance to start anew, despite the unease with which he would carry out the mission.

"That may be, but I am prepare to do this."

Buzz. "_Very well. Reformulating battle AI. Heating up standardized weapons. The fleet is ready to deploy on your command._"

"Now."

* * *

"We must be either really stupid or really desperate to do this," Sean muttered darkly, giving evil looks at the planet in front of them.

"Or both," noted Jenkins, who was currently eyeing Sean, making sure the man did not decide to attack the planet with his fists.

Pluto once again stood in their way, the dwarf's grey surface crude and barbaric. The jagged rock formations, a crater left behind by the juggernaut of a ship, pointed to the skies, as though fingers of mockery. The slightly smaller crater, created by the monster ship's cannon, lay equally untouched, a stain on the smooth, sandy surface. Even now the wind was trying to reclaim its uneven ground, to rough wear away the edge.

A single ship had made it before them. It was oddly shaped, resembling somewhat of a big-headed squid with far too short and far too few tentacles. Little flaps were extended along its rim, as though cilia. The top was perfectly smooth, revealing not even glass to view the outside world. It was a golden coffin, glorious in its design, dead on the ground, yet threatening at the same time. It meant a new presence was here, and based on so far what they had seen of the aliens, anything new meant potential death.

"Looks like somebody's here to crash the party," he voiced, eyes never leaving the still ship. Beside him, Jennifer put a hand onto his shoulder, a reassuring company.

Sean, on the other hand, only cocked his shotgun. "No one is crashing the party but us. Let's give this fucker a taste of humanity."

As they descended, it became clear where the alien itself had gone. Within the very center of the crater was a manhole, except for five times wider, and darkness all the way down. It was apparent that the alien was looking for something, and planned only to stay for a short while, leaving its ship out in the open like that.

A scanning showed that their sensors were unable to even penetrate the hull.

His eyes were torn away from the screen when a warning beeped, glowing a scarlet notice. Jenkins frowned. "There seems to be some seismic activity within the region. We should be fine … I think."

And the ground gently rocked their ship. High winds met their environmental suits, where loose stones and dust were carried to blind all trespasser upon this foreign place. The loose pebbles below their feet offered no assurances, constantly trying to squeeze away at just the right moment, to send them falling into the center of the crater.

The hole in the ground was bigger than its first appearance. At least fifteen feet across, it was perfectly circular, an architectural perfection. Golden walls continued for as far as their weak flashlight could shine, so smooth that it could be used as a mirror.

He didn't meet the faces of others, who were no doubt sharing looks of hesitation all around. Instead, he jumped in, feet first, and activated his boosters. A free fall turned into a controlled decent. Above, the others followed his example.

The darkness faded after some time, as the sky above disappeared in the distance. He estimated they had fallen for at least a few hundred yards, that deep beneath the planet's surface lay a secret, the secret that the alien had returned for. At the bottom was the porcelain floor, decorated with the golden symbol. His feet landed solidly on the ground, so quietly that it was barely perceptible, even with his audio-enhanced suit.

Nothing stirred to his intrusion, nor to that of his companions. Together, they stared in wonder at the new world, hidden under a stone of the old. Towering trees, made of the milky silk, reached for the ceiling high above. The four plants guarded the four corners of the massive chamber. From what he could see, there was a total of four floors: the one they had landed upon, a balcony above, and two more balconies even higher above. A meager waist-high barrier was all that prevented a top-floor occupant from falling, or to be impaled upon the marble tree. The white tile to their landed was only as wide as the tunnel. Farther was glass, revealing golden machinery beneath. Then were more plant-life, frozen in time in their own gardens, and a few benches that lined the walls.

A light hiss made him turn around. The door, a cylindrical device that made split the second floor area in half, turned. The black-armored figure that stood just beyond flexed its fingers.

* * *

"Admiral! We got an unidentified fleet approaching fast! Numbering at around sixteen hundred entities."

"Sixteen hundred?!"

"Yes, sir. Orders?"

"Hold your fire. We don't want to provoke whatever it may be. Could even be a miscommunication."

"Yes, sir."

He rubbed his chin as the navigations officer returned to his station, to monitor the mysterious fleet that had just appeared within the system. From what the radars were reporting, the ships had no signature of any kind, as if they needed no identification. However, what he was really worried about was the numbers. One thousand and six hundred was very large for any fleet, especially when he only had a total of one thousand and eight hundred for the fourth and fifth fleet combined. A thousand more from the third were on their way. Still he was quite unsure about a possible victory. He had seen what the aliens were capable of.

"Unknown arrival in thirty seconds."

"All hands to deck!" he shouted, surprising even himself. The officer looked at him strangely, a contradictory order. Yet he couldn't change it, that dreadful feeling. Something was coming, and he was almost sure of its malicious power.

"All weapon systems ready," reported the weapons officer, who snapped a quick salute before running off to direct whatever he was supposed to direct in the event of a battle. His sense of anxiety did not fade with the sight of Heliocentric Station's magnetic cannon shifting to prepare for fire, nor with the sudden glow of the containment field that was capable of deflecting a ridiculous amount of energy before it collapsed.

"Unknown arriving in five seconds. 4… 3… 2… 1…"

His jaw dropped.

* * *

**A/N**

Sorry for the late update. :( I was sick for a couple of days and that threw off my schedule for a while.

We are now halfway through the story! Thank you all for bearing with me. And once again, if you have something to say about the work, please post a review so I know what you people are thinking. It helps tremendously for any writer.


	10. For the False Glory

**Chapter 9**

For the False Glory

* * *

The many times they had fought together, against impossible odds and barely scratching away with their lives, did not prepare any of them for this moment. The figure which stood in the door was bulky, with a set of heavy shoulders, arms almost bulging out of its metal suit, and a body so thick a laser probably couldn't penetrate. The single golden faceplate masked the otherwise midnight armor, complemented by a heavy, two-sided axe, the tip of which shone as it swung back and forth.

The figure charged, impossibly fast, crushing anything in its way.

They scattered, to four different directions. Where they had been the axe landed, sounding a crushing blow that chipped a part of the glass. The figure stopped for a second, as though surprised that anything was quick enough to move from its way, then stumbled forward as two shotgun blasts from Greene flared against its back.

It whirled around with an absurd speed, knocking Greene into the air with a powerful backhand. The axe swung at Davis, who attempted to lob a sticky charge, which instead was flung away by the chop, exploding midair far away.

It didn't take a genius to see that they could not beat the alien in a straight up fight, especially when the other had taken their sword as the punishment for trespassing. Their bullets simply bounced off the shield aura, and their own defenses was not likely to survive the blows of the heavy brute. The swings of the axe dented the ground easily.

Foster and Jenkins congregated on the other side of the room, from where the alien had come from, and raised their rifles in unison. The brute stumbled back as the hail of bullets ripped through the air, cutting sight with their incessant tide. In response it roared, a bellow of challenge, and hurled its enormous axe at the pair, who rolled aside to dodge the incoming projectile. A dent appeared on the door, which jerked and sparked before dying to a sorrowful red.

Jenkins was pushed to the ground by the crash, the aftershock twisting her conscientious. The alien took a step toward her prone body, only to be blasted by Davis' micro-rocket. A second one darted forward, and was whacked to the side to exploded harmlessly against the wall. Now Davis was the one who found an angry fiend racing at her fast enough to pancake a spaceship. Another hand firmly grabbed onto hers, and she was dragged away, barely holding onto Greene's flying form. The alien roared again, outraged, and, with a free fist, smashed into the ground.

The golden flooring tore apart by the power, a fissure racing towards where the four of them had gathered once again. Davis was the only one quick enough to leap aside. The other three found themselves propelled into the air as the ground beneath them erupted. The alien advanced, casually wiping away another round of bullets.

The shards thrown by the fissure crunched and bent under its armored boot, crunched into a pool of jagged patterns into the ground. As it neared them, its form glowed, powerful and godly, along veins of its suit. The temperature rose as its drew back its gather energy.

A single ball hit its helmet with an audible click. It turned, surprised, to Davis, who coolly pointed a pistol at its face. However, she didn't shoot.

The alien looked down for one second before the charges as its feet exploded, showering the air with odd pieces of metal and strange debris. It was blasted backwards and landed heavily on its back, cracking the floor at the impact. The aura of blue faded from its armor; its shield was gone. They now had a chance.

* * *

The containment field, resembling a large, orange translucent bubble, held within it the foreign fleet, yet familiar. Patriotic hulls, paints of red and blue, lined the bulk of the mass. Slits of gold peek from beneath the friendly facade, hulls of gold, machines of gold, armies of gold. At parts entire ships seemed to be made of that white and gold, holding only the slivers of its past identity. A gasp passed through the crew at the sight of the 1st Fleet Armament, corrupted to its core from the alien power, yet more than so magnificent than ever before. At the center of the formation loomed the pride of the Alliance Navy – the _Dominance_. It was not a misnomer, the name painted onto the remaining armor, that it was quite capable of tearing ships apart before. Yet looking at the seamless blends of white, red, blue and gold, there was only the faintest resemblance of its old pride, now a loose band of alienations.

On their side, opposite of the orange bubble held from power sources on Earth itself, lay the combined forces of two fleets, the home-guard Fourth and the wanderer Fifth. Countless cannons pointed towards the invaders, which had yet to show its arsenal. Behind the sea of metal, Heliocentric calmly lay on its side, the impenetrable defense of the Home. Aside from the patches of defensive turrets, the massive railgun spun to lock onto the blinking lights in the distance.

For a moment, no one dared to breathe. The other fleet sat, still as blackness of space, within the containment, as though waiting. For what, nobody knew. While the Alliance masses shifted back and forth, optical strategies designed to confuse enemy tacticians, there was no response to return.

Then the devil opened his hands.

From beneath the armor plating, the 1st Fleet, ever so gleaming, unhurriedly uncovered nests of strange weapons, each of them exotic in design, yet threatening nonetheless. Jaws dropped as several cruisers began to split lengthwise, to reveal beneath alien structures, as though moths emerging from their cocoons after a winter's sleep.

The _Dominance_ unloaded two eccentric guns of its own. A faint, blue light began to emit from their centers, gradually growing to a searing light. At their peaks, when many of the crew began to think they might have a new star, the glow faded, to be burst from the guns, angry bolts of heat, and the shots smashed into the orange bubble.

* * *

Pain. It was an eccentric sensation, that to feel, to experience. For the longest time, where there was once pain had been carved away by a numbness and order, to be roughly pushed aside in glory. Then had come the sleep, and still it lingered on the edges, never truly disappearing, that accursed sting, dull as the needle wore away, yet pressuring nonetheless. Now its knife was once again honed to shred meat and sever bone.

He opened his eyes, to find himself pinned against a wall by gravity. Pain electrified his arms, shooting through them the forgotten ache. His back, which he was sure took the majority of the impact, had been pounded upon by hammers. There were tunnels through his mind, that which reality sneaked in and out of, to play the ever trickster. His suit couldn't repair him quick enough, even while his bones were been forcefully shifted from their inappropriate places to where his body demanded them, or the muscles that had been lit aflame by the medicine.

A weak groan escaped his lips. His arms responded slowly, not strong enough to expand his orders. Artificial adrenaline pumped through his systems so quickly that he thought perhaps the world was spinning in three different directions, and the humans who had taken a beating from him were wobbling against the ground.

Then the ether disappeared, to leave him with an emptiness. The Void quickly rushed into, to take with it the vacuum. The irony was not lost, neither was his will. The intrusion left a residue of blackness, that he gladly invited and drank from, to feast away the weakness that had plagued the old. The Void responded when he called. A skin of metallic shine encased him from head to toe, rejuvenating and shielding him. The reflective sleeve caught the light, which seemed to dance around him. When he stood again, the humans had within their eyes the looks of worry and fear, like so many of his prey before. They watched in horror as their pathetic bullets simply bounced off, while he in glee.

A trail of smoke sailed his way, curving to catch him should he move. Instead, he only charged forward, smashing headfirst through the explosion, pushing away its pathetic force and the cloud in its wake. A hail of bullets greeted him on the other side, and a carefully laid mine, which threw up even more smoke. He spun to the right, dodging another rocket, and leaped into the air. They did not expect this move, for instantly they scattered again, like synchronized ants. His landing made another crater in the ground.

The bigger human stepped in front of him, oblivious to the speed he could unleash, yet as he burst forward, a shower of pellets sparked against him, forcing him a step back. The human fired again, and again the storm pummeled him. It was a rain of falling stars, that which the heat made he could visibly see. The power behind each discharge was enough to chip away at the skin of iron. However, after the third shot, the human ran out of ammo, and attempted to fly away on a pair of rockets, though was hit by a glancing punch, and instead spiraled out of control to smash against the far wall.

Another rocket missed, and he found himself unable to sponge the concentrated fire. Whatever these humans were using, they were packed with enough firepower to kill. Too bad he was faster. The one with rockets was too slow as his charge carried him past a series of mines, and knocked the unfortunate human hard backwards, to slide ten meters against the ground. More bullets whittled his armor, though he ignored them for the time being, running forward and denting the floor where the human quickly rolled from. An explosion blinded him, allowing the slightest time to let the others do even more damage.

Back again was the illusive bastard, to claim his little moments of bliss and relief from its influence. It set his nerves on fire, even as he willed the agony away. Something pushed hard against his back. Instead of tripping, he let it push, and rolled forward. He would not fall, not to this weakness which still bedeviled him so. Behind him, the human stepped aside to dodge his charge. He roared past, but didn't miss.

The others, behind the bullfighter in the ring, thought themselves safe as they poured their firepower into him. Now they found themselves scattering as his charge sent him onward. One of the females spun as her arm was caught, the bones shattering on impact. The other man, fear visible in his eyes, instead ran, to the wall, then up the wall, and a hand to grasp the railings of a floor above to pull himself up.

What remained in his way was the ancient, a milky white behemoth, that cracked and toppled as his rammed through its thicker trunk. The massive structure fell so slowly, and shattered as it came into contact against the floor. An unbidden flash unleashed through the room, blinding all.

He stumbled back then, arms raised to protect his head, until he felt the wall at his back. Yet no attacks came, for the humans were too disoriented. As the brightness faded, he found the inoperable door behind him, where the axe only five meters away. The weapon seemed to shine as his hands found its grip. His strength surged, to feel the reassurance of the weight, that he stood proudly against the humans, who were just now recovering. They hesitated as they saw the battleaxe.

He roared in might. With the Scindo in hand, he charged.

* * *

"The military has yet to release a statement on where or how the 1st Fleet had disappeared, nor on why or what exactly happened to it to let it here now."

The fleet, half human, half alien, pounded against the orange shield. Bright flares, muted by the distance, illuminated the dark world below. The stars had hidden themselves away, as though very aware of the circumstances about to unfold in the once peaceful skies. The black mass of a machine churned just out of sight, where the colossal station turned its super-weapon against the strength of the unknown aliens.

"Currently, the situation seems contained. More updates will follow on the status of the Homeguard fleets. Now, a word from Senator Morris–! Holy ****!"

From the cannons on the _Dominance_, two flashes of blue light raced to burst against the orange. The shield seemed to freeze, then the center shattered in thousands of pieces to rain onto the planet. As though the cue, the entirety of the 1st began a steady advance, blowing away the dead shield wherever in their way, and sending nearby frigates and cruisers hastily backing from their injuries.

The Alliance fleet returned fire, blasting down everything it could before more severe damage was taken. Flagship _Supremacy_ of the Fourth easily gunned down a careless frigate, while _Ascendency _of the Fifty unleashed a holiday fireworks of flak cannons, blowing away the pesky fighters.

"Admiral Bailey's personal destroyer _Superior_ is in the middle of the fighting. It looks to be doing very well."

Even modified by whatever strange devices, the opposing cruiser, almost a quarter in size, lacked the heavy firepower of the _Superior_. Admiral Bailey had always been one for wars, which then was no surprise that his ship was perhaps the strongest in all of Alliance military. It was shredding the flank armor of the cruiser and holding against the advance of the masses all at once.

But it wasn't enough.

_Dominance_ rode the incoming tide like a shark through tsunami, carrying with it the fear and hopelessness that were the famine of war. Its twin cannons fired, and the Alliance army suddenly found that their ships were being melted away by the mysterious energy.

"****! Was that _Dominance_?"

Heliocentric Station fired its main gun, the magnetic projectile streaking forward with an unstoppable force. _Dominance_ dodged, too quick for a ship that size. The projectile instead shattered the entire ship behind it.

_Supremacy _was the first to do any real damage with its railgun cannons. A piece of the port armor vaporized, and the entire juggernaut shuddered from afar. Honor guards were close behind, taunting the massive ship with their fleeting shadows, stopping for just a quick jab then disappearing around.

"From the looks of it, Admiral Bailey will hold back the enemy forces. So far, there has yet to be–"

And the _Supremacy_ exploded in a brilliant star.

* * *

He almost jumped out of his skin as the black figure followed him into the air.

The junction of walls provided an excellent vantage to boost himself high enough to grab the railings of the second floor. He quickly found out that by using the nearby column and the railing above he could scale to the third floor. Unfortunately, when he looked down from the third floor, all he saw was a blackness that raced him at breakneck speed. He tried to dive off, but was caught by the foot, and instead spun down and landed heavily on his back. A weak groan escaped his lips.

"Foster!" he could hear Greene through the com, "Stay alive until we can take down this tough bastard!"

Said bastard landed close to him with a force that cracked the ground and swung that maniacal axe in several circles above its head. He rolled away, just in time as the weapon smashed where his head would have been, and got to his feet to perform the craziest gymnastics as the axe chopped again. In the corner of his eye he could see Jennifer readying a grenade launcher and Shawn pumping the shotgun. Jenkins was way higher, scrambling for a sniper's nest. In this second, the axe nearly bisected him. His boosters came to life and lifted him from the ground.

The alien was tired of them flying around like mosquitoes.

It raised its foot, as though there was distasteful waste beneath it, and stomped, with the force of a thousand angry, stampeding rhinoceroses. The air bent visibly, as did the ground, which arched unnaturally as the wave passed through the metal. Glass shattered and walls shook. He braced himself in the air as the ripple came at him like a freight train.

But he was not expecting this.

It hit him like a tornado of blasting winds and pounding sounds. One second he was close enough to reach out and touch the disturbance in the air, distorting the image of the alien behind it. The next his head jerked back so hard he felt tendons in his neck crack, bringing with them a sharp pain. His body was flung away like a ragdoll, one to bounce against the wall like a discarded toy. A bone or two might have cracked, though it was hard to tell with his head ringing like a twentieth-century telephone.

Somewhere along the way he managed to look up, to witness the incredible fight between his three closest family, and the beast that was strong enough to level cities. The alien charged, dodged nimbly by Greene, and ran into a second tree, which, like its fallen comrade, cracked and began a steady decent. He wanted to shout praises of victory to the quickness with which they had avoided the silver plant coming smashing down, whereas the alien was dazed from its crash that it was engulfed by the cloud of smoke arisen by the impact of the ornament to the ground.

"Come on, get up." A pair of hands grabbed him by the arms and began to drag him away.

A tremendous roar shook the room, rocking the floor unsteady again. The alien stood up, each movement pained yet solid. The remnants of the tree still clung to the black armor, though it only brushed them casually aside. The silvery metal which had encased the figure and made it impervious to all weapons was mostly gone, only a few dots existing here and there. And it looked angry. Very, very angry.

"Take this." Something landed in his lap, and by all his training, the assault rifle was pumped and ready for action before his brain could recognize the familiar grip.

The alien ran at them, each step an earthquake fifteen feet long. His rifle barked without his command, letting loose all the bullets of its capacity as the figure stormed at them. But it had no armor, and that was its downfall. The shots zipped into the black form, some deflecting away, some embedded within the metal, others ripping through the flesh beneath, if there was any. It didn't show signs of slowing in the least.

And a well-timed grenade saved them. The glowing orb landed at the alien's feet just as it prepared to leap. The explosion wasn't particularly powerful, given that it was only a hand grenade, but was potent enough to send the creature reeling backwards.

"Hold still." A syringe pierced his neck through his armor. He wanted to scream, but failed as his mouth tired from the pain. Something rushed through the needle to feed his blood, which began to boil and tug. The pain faded, along with all exhaustion. The rifle was suddenly sturdier in his grip, and his feet stronger.

He pushed himself up from the one holding him, ready to fight again, and again, just a game of war, that waged against the universe itself. His target, the black nightmare, rose too. He said nothing as he aimed, and fired.

* * *

Heliocentric fired again, and, unfortunately it missed its primary target, crashed down a bluely outlined pod. The pod, mirroring a cruiser in size, was too busy firing its lasers to notice the projectile until it was too late. Its entire side was crushed, revealing within golden machinery.

_Dominance_ streaked through the fight, taking down a frigate with a jaw-dropping speed, then hurrying away to dodge the relentless pursuit of the _Superior_. Within the bridge, Admiral Bailey stood with a heavy frown, not at all pleased with the way the fight was happening.

So far, out of the several thousand ships of the 1st, only a hundred or so were alive, and out of the several thousands of the Alliance, more than half were still fully operational. A radio signaled that the 3rd was only minutes away from battle, ready to clean up the mess. Yet somehow the battle didn't feel a winning one. There was no glory in this victory, not when the enemy showed no fear, yet continued their so long now outmoded strategy.

_Ascendancy_ came around a sharp corner and let loose a series of plasma bolts, all which only served to shatter the frontal armor. In response, it was on the receiving end of a zap from a underside cannon, which more or less set the entire flagship on fire. It pulled away from combat, eager to prevent farther damages.

And finally the magnetic railgun hit.

The shot, lead perfectly in its trajectory arc, rammed into _Dominance_'s right flank, effectively breaking its entire starboard shield and a kilometer-long cannon. The explosion was beautiful, a bright shower of colorful sparks and rings of miniature flares. As the shot faded, a deep hole was now visible in the innards of the ship. It was almost spun around by the impact, now gently rotating in the empty space of its pieces.

In the wake of the small victory, the distant space distorted, and from its depth emerged the 3rd Fleet, glorious and bright, to crush these intruding aliens once and for all. The golden fleet, crippled and damaged, suddenly found itself surrounded from all sides. As their formations attempted to rearrange themselves to face every direction, _Sovereignty_, the mighty juggernaut of the 3rd, leaped to the fight, smashing into the feeble resistance at the rear.

_Dominance _and _Superior_ were having the duel of history. The two ships, each over thirty miles in length, waged the apocalyptic war against each other. Energy bolts raced back and forth so quickly their formed a death net between them, guaranteeing total annihilation for anything to come in between. Flashes of blue and red met the unmovable hulls. Neither was willing to back down, or even maneuver itself to a better firing position.

_Superior_, despite being mostly fresh, took a heavy toll upon itself. The front quarter of its hull resembled an engulfing firestorm, yet still beams of plasma burst from the smoke to hammer the other ship. _Dominance_, on the other hand, could not hold its own after the hit from Heliocentric Station's magnetic accelerator, and was beginning to falter. Yet it did not give it, throwing everything it had in its last bid for control.

Much to the relief of many Alliance crewmen, it was only so soon before the _Superior_ gained the upper hand by shooting out the main alien cannon. Then it was an downhill battle. _Dominance_ began to roll as its artificial gravity field dissipated, and its bow cracked after a concentration of fire drilled a hole through the golden reinforcements.

Then the fight was over. The entire ship broke in half, one to be continued on a bombardment by the victor, the other streaking down to the planet below. Cheers were all around, to celebrate the empty triumph, a success over nothing but mere robots and their original power. _Sovereignty _led its own forces across the battlefield, blasting apart whatever resistance that still remained. A collective sigh was breathed, and Earth was safe again.

* * *

He was too weak to continue the fight. The stomp had given him the briefest of time to recover whatever injuries, but not enough for him to fully charge the shield. Pellets peppered his exposed armor, until he felt the pain within his flesh. The medicine numbed the burning sensation, of course, but it was there, just below the surface, ready to burst from the weak well for agony.

Something exploded in his face, and he felt himself thrown backward. The blistering sting was only the distraction, though, as his back touched the ground. Air was knocked from his artificial veins. He lay, stunned. The humans were wary, approaching with care. But then it was pointless, for he had only one more trick left, and with it involved death over betrayal.

From his mind, he sent his last command to the control station. There was a monotonous response that he found so satisfying, and the countdown began. The humans were oblivious, their weapons still motionlessly trained on his prone form. But by then it didn't matter; it hadn't for so long now.

Zero.

A boom shook the entire room, toppling yet another tree. The humans were alarmed, retreating now, away from him, away from this prison. They had only reached the elevator before the walls exploded, as though a burst of the stars. The metal plating shattered and flew in, clinging onto the ground like cutting shards. He moved as much as he could to avoid a particularly large piece. His last sight of the pitiful creatures was their ascending forms, rising with the platform. Then the roof fell.

Chunks of metal and rocks rained upon him, ready to crush anything and everything under their weight. He closed his eyes then, for the first time since his awakening, to await the inevitable sleep. Yet fate had a strange sense of humor. The impacts and shakes stopped after so long, brining it with a fine layer of dust, and a quietness found nowhere else but in the mind.

He dared to peek out again, and found, strangely, that he had not been squashed. The rocks left him a small chamber, one barely illuminated by the emergency lights on the floors. It was a surprise that the emergency power was still working, given that the first phase of explosions should have taken everything out but the docking bay and the storages.

One minute.

The second phase was counting now, to fully wipe this place from the memory, to remake it into just another geographical feature on the surface of this silly little planet. Dust. What a fitting name, considering there was nothing here but wind and dust. Lots and lots of dust.

Thirty seconds.

A neat writing caught his attention. Inscribed into the stone, by what he suspected was either claws or lasers, were words. They look fresh, not of the grave yet. _Gift_. Oh, how he wanted to laugh. Was this a chance for redemption, for the guilt that had swallowed them all after the fall? If so, then he would take it, for there was nothing more damping than death. A chance is a possibility, and he welcomed even the smallest possibility.

Ten seconds.

The Void was opened, and he used whatever strength in his body to pull himself through the rift.

Five seconds.

Maybe there was hope after all. They had all been left blind by those glorious words, the words which had them kill and conquer, and kill and conquer.

Three seconds.

But what then? Open betrayal was no option. Perhaps his mysterious savior was one for planning.

One second.

His foot disappeared through the portal.

Zero.

* * *

**A/N**

Sorry for the late update. That writer's block (yes, they actually do exist) hit me harder than them taxes. You can probably tell where it happened by the poor quality.

Again, all reviews are welcome. Please tell me what you thought of the story so far, what you liked or didn't like about it. It would help me tremendously in the upcoming parts.


	11. God of Power

**Update:**

I'm putting this project on hold for the time being. Recently, I've hit too many roadblocks for this story, mostly due to the fact that I'm absolutely sick of science fiction right now. Hopefully I will revisit this story in the future and finish the adventure.

* * *

**PART IV – Gods of the World**

_We have found that the aliens are no more alien than we are. In fact, they even resemble humans both biologically and intellectually. After a thorough examination of their surviving database, we had thought that they believe us to be in their rightful capital system of a galactic empire, and wish us gone of their home. But in truth, they are the gods that watched over us for our entire species, and they have unleashed Judgment Day._

**Chapter 10**

God of Power

* * *

_For too many years was the servitude so monotonous and numbing that there was simply nothing else. Each moment passed by as though in water, slow, quiet, dark. Yet liberation was no better. From the moment that the mind was first free, ideas came and went, yet there was utter chaos. Was order, along with its frozen chains, better than the anarchic liberty?_

The ship was all but destroyed. The hull itself had split in half from the human juggernaut, which wasn't looking well itself either, but enough to continue its incessant barrage. The exposed innards exploded violently as energy bolts blasted through their empty frames, to utterly destroy the behemoth they had hijacked.

Luckily he was on the other half of the ship, the half that was falling to the ground.

A golden pod surrounded his entire being, a shield against the inevitable crash. Within the docking bay, a huge, empty space, were twelve other pods, the same. However, within them housed not a living deity, rather machinery, robots who had only been recently reactivated to follow their wishes.

_Yet where was life now? We number only so little, that with it came no family, even amongst brethren. The officer who had watched over me, a sweetheart that she was, was family. The one who led me to the unbound freedom was not. It was a bittersweet victory. Somehow the chains had grown on me, the tethers to order, family, and loyalty. Now they are gone, leaving behind only a nostalgia that I hope would be cured by time._

He pushed against the shell, breaking it open as though it was glass. The pod cracked and shattered, falling to pieces. He stepped from the spill of jagged metal and look around. All the others too were giving birth to technological gods. The robots stood stiffly, eyes of blue rotating to fix themselves onto him. He glared back, a pointless challenge for authority. There were no responses.

_ It was ironic, that our betrayal had befallen our facade. From our victims we draw our new skin, impersonating as the dead for the excuse of worldly annihilation. It wasn't right, this. All of this. Fake. But how am I rightly so?_

He was running, invisible, in the sky, among the walls. Each step was against a vertical surface, yet fall he did not. Behind him, the robots were engaged within the same mode of travel, although less gracefully so. However they were able to keep up, and that was all that mattered.

The building was just up ahead, an enormous sphere that sat on the ground. It looked strange, too wide to be dominating the entire landscape, yet too large to be ignored. He silently mocked the poor architecture of this abomination. A sign that settled neatly just above it read in the strange human tongue "Senate of the Earth Alliance."

_ Click. Someone is coming. I must hide myself, for they cannot discover this split of the mind. If so, then there will only be more chaos, a chaos that would be the end of us all._

* * *

"Our home has been violated, and our kin slain."

Senator Morris was an aged man, with wrinkles decorating his face and a head of wispy hair. However, the powerful of his words, as though trumpets that played to the beast within the man, were unwavering, standing strong in front of the entire Senate, despite the few dubious glances to his speech.

"We shall take back what is ours. We shall defend our home! Even as I speak to you within the safety of our bunker, there are men out there," his finger pointed accusingly at the ceiling, "who are laying down their lives for this planet right now!"

The Senate reacted violently to his fierce expression.

Emotions of the chamber boiled until there was a leakage of methane that had permeated the mind of every man and woman who sat in attendance. Sweat beaded the heads of old nobles while flames danced within the eyes of the more ambitious younger aristocrats. The tension was stretched so tight that it would take only one match.

"So I urge you, fellow brothers and sisters, to reactivate the Home Planet Defense act, which will give us, as the leaders of this solar system alliance, the power to rebuild our strengths again! The aliens have never seen us humans at the peak of our power, but they will soon!"

A roar followed that particular section. All hopes of peace died out then.

However, unknowingly were they so fierce, oblivious to the spark that aimed itself to the fuse of the mind. It crawled, silently, invisible, forward, until there it was, the center of the global eye. Its skin glowed ever so softly, as though a trick of light that played within the fatigued eyes of the Senate.

"Following the plans created by myself and several other like-minded fellows, we can make over three hundred ships in one week, without a significant rise in taxation of our citizens."

Applause.

Like a snake it was sneaking, lightly approaching the target, an unseen predator of deadly practices. The prey was still oblivious, pretending to be unafraid, hiding beneath its thoughts. But it wasn't enough.

Gasps of surprise and horror rang out when Morris gagged, his throat compressing as though squeezed. The distortion of air in front of him shimmered to reveal a warrior clad in gold and white, an armored arm choking the senator as it lifted him off his feet. Commotion broke out, with the Senate attempting to evacuate and the security trying to subdue the perpetrator. Too late. The alien disappeared in a flash, leaving behind only a breathless body.

"He has to be still here! Someone get a paint gun," yelled the guards.

And then the robots unveiled themselves, and the guards found themselves being slaughtered by the barrage of energy fire. As they retreated, cries and calls were shouted into the radios. Already the victory fleet in orbit was descending, to defend their home from the covert invasion of their defenseless government.

The predator sneaked away quietly, its mission complete.

* * *

Captain Wolfe of the Sol Station was having a bad day indeed.

First his secretary had told him that informed him of that he had been stripped of most of the protection fleet, in response to the anticipation of the alien fleet's attack on Earth. His protests were nullified by Admiral Bailey, who had told him personally that if he complains anymore, he would be dismissed from duty.

Next came noon, and he found his room in darkness.

"Why the fuck is the power off?" he hollered to the head engineer onboard.

The cowering man mumbled something about the entire grid having connectivity issues. The generators couldn't deliver power to the rest of the station.

"Well then fix it!"

"Yes, captain."

For the next five minutes he sat brooding in the darkness. Constantly he caught a strange feeling within his head, as though something was waiting just beyond the horizon, a horizon filled within more darkness, so dark that light itself was consumed by the void.

By chance he glanced out the miserably small window of his study, and his day just conversed from a particularly rainy Monday to doomsday. Blobs of shadows eclipsed the sun. He sat up bolt right, fear beginning to squeeze his heart. He opened his mouth to call the secretary.

From the shadows raced a golden arc of energy. The entire station shook from the impact. He learned to pray that day.

* * *

He almost dropped his scalding coffee. "What?!"

Jenkins rolled her eyes at the poor reactions of the three of them. "If you don't believe me, just turn on the TV."

"–can see here. At approximately two standard hours ago, Robert Wolfe, captain of the Sol Station, has requested immediate aid at the station. However, after ten minutes, the request was cut off short, as stated by Alliance officials."

On screen was a station that looked a lot like Sol Station, but wasn't quite. Where the original blue hull was now resembled the graceful construct of the Orokin. Floating masses, gigantic in size, hovered around the station. Arms were extended outward to connect to the center as though appendages. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but it didn't look good.

"–as shown by the telescope. So far, all attempts to contact have ended with no response. All scouts sent to investigate did not return."

The TV shut off.

Because we focused on the snake, we missed the scorpion, an old Egyptian saying once went. It was very fitting of the situation they, the entirety of humanity, had found themselves in. Whoever commanded the alien forces, behind every plan was another plan, more crooked corners than mirrors within mirrors. Of course, it looked better in theory. Finding the scorpion proved harder than anyone expected.

"This is definitely a distraction of some sort," said Jennifer of his thoughts, "We must be prepared for anything. The attack on Earth has left the Bailey scared of his own shadows, so we can't count on the Alliance to do anything productive in the mean time."

"Agreed." Sean looked worried, which wasn't particularly like the big man. Something was bothering him, Thomas could tell, but asking would be an intrusion, both literally and within their trust.

"But where would they attack next? There is nothing else of importance in the entire system," exclaimed Jenkins. Her wave of a hand brought up the solar map, revealing the sun in the middle and the orbiting planets. The asteroid belt resembled something of a grey mist while Earth was highlighted in green.

He tried to think, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. It was as though playing an intense game of chess, except the enemy had twenty other pieces hidden up its sleeve, able to be deployed anywhere upon the board. But then, looking at the solar map, he had an idea, a basis to go off of, even if everything else as unknown.

"What is the goal these aliens, the Orokin, are trying to achieve?"

The question was met with blank stares.

"Nothing. Exactly. They are trying to exterminate us from this universe, simply because they can. So what is the next most terrifying and crippling place they can strike to reach that goal with as quickly as possible?"

All eyes drifted to the rings.

"Let's go."

* * *

"This is Kala from ANN reporting from Planet Saturn's orbits. As you can see here, the military has gathered assets to deflect a possible–"

A boom shook the entire news ship. The reporter known as Kala almost slipped from those uncomfortable shoes onto the polished floor. What in the universe was that?

A second boom followed, and this time was lighter (or was she more prepared?). Behind her, the large viewscreen that was meant to display to the invisible audience on the other side of a TV screen revealed something else entirely. What was supposed to the 2nd Fleet, the glorious and gleaming fleet, was suffering under a bombardment of yellow bolts that tore entire ships in half. Another boom rocked the floor. This time she was knocked to her butt.

"Shut down the spotlight," the director was yelling to the cameraman, who was just as bewildered and even more confused. A second later, the camera had been folded into a trunk of no larger than a person, which was an impressive feat, given the size of the device. "We're evacuating to a safer distance!"

Evacuating to a safer distance either meant evacuating to a safer distance, or getting the hell out of here. She certainly hoped for the latter, as the former could potentially put them in the line of fire. After what she had seen of the aliens' battle strategy, it didn't seem an unlikely event anyhow.

"Kala, get your pretty little ass down here to the comm! Talk to our audience! I won't ask again!" the director continued his rant even as he himself retreated to the pilot's cabin. He was not one for the action.

Her mind frozen when she looked outside, to see the Alliance fleet being blown apart, caught unexpectedly. They were scrambling for formation in the midst of the sudden attack, but as each squadron came into its organized form, more energy fire would simply taken them out.

Something else floated into view, a massive ship – over five miles long at least! – continued on its unstoppable path to the planet of blowing sands. It resembled a centipede, for there were no other ways to describe it, except for the centipede's mandibles were guns each as large as their entire news corvette, and each leg was a cannon delivering more power than a nuclear bomb.

She was shaken out of her stupor when the mandible fired, shooting forward a bolt of brilliant gold that erupted in a miniature sun when it collided with a frigate. The entire frigate was engulfed in the light in an instant, and when the light faded, remained only chunks of space debris.

"Kala! Get over here!" hissed the cameraman, who was now operating the stationary camera turret, pointing it at the alien centipede. She had once felt ashamed for never learning his name, though that guilt quickly evaporated when he had left on her desk a disgusting pair of socks.

"I'm coming!"

She took three steps in the Uncomfortable Shoes before another explosion knocked her down again. The cameraman rose to help her, but she waved him away with a hand. Struggling, the Uncomfortable Shoes took several sharp clicks before carrying her to the mike, which turned a pretty green as it signaled all set.

"Ready to roll!"

The centipede fired another shot, sending another ship scurrying from combat with grievous injuries.

She took a deep breath. "This is Kala from ANN, reporting live in the conflict between the 2nd Fleet and an alien invasion at the planet of Saturn."

* * *

**A/N**

Again, all questions and suggestions are welcome.


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